A Poem: Blessings

Sometimes we think it must be one or the other.
When our dreams become plans too big,
they must push past a ceiling.
Perhaps it’s that we remember when young
how we were asked to choose
between this or that sweet treat
held out in the hand.

It was not often we were given full rein
to gorge ourselves full to brimming.
But maybe a cup running over
is what we are given
in this feast or famine world.
And it’s just that cups appear in their season.
Though it is not always raining,
it does not mean it doesn’t pour.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
July 2021

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