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Sunday, November 16, 2025

The Mornings Bring Pale Yellow by Aulton Grubbs

 


The morning brings pale yellow light into my room

Later and later each day

It’s like a slow motion film

It’s quiet and has soft edges

It’s a little fuzzy and feels hazy but so comfortable

I can sleep a minute more

Each day. When I dream I never wake

I open my eyes and I can tell it is fall

Lyla has learned the Fate of Ophelia and is singing it

It’s a beautiful lesson for a young woman

Elodie is still steadily breathing a calming feeling 

For her, and it gathers air into my lungs  

I notice a new light in the hall

The front door is open, caroling with the patterns

Of a changing season and a cool breeze

These sneaking wisps of sound 

Make a hymn. The girls hustle around, plant kisses

On my forehead and it’s quiet again

Mom chats with me while I get ready 

She reminds me of the date, our schedule, and reads

The weather. Last week we had a big

Ferociously glorious storm, but each day since,

Mom laments No rain today

Dad, though, rushes in and says loudly 

With relief, Aulton it is raining, come outside

I hurry, there is one tiny cloud, a soft shiny one

Right above my house. It spills over my mind,

Mists over my heart, and sprinkles 

My soul with a miracle. It only lasted a few minutes

But God made me my own cloud today

And I will never forget this goodness that

Is kindness in the form of pure water

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