I stare out of my cubicle window
to see a sheet of solid water
creeping, building, cragging, steeping

I come to, from out a merry winterland
and feel the urge to write a poem
about a scene worth painting.

My magnificent mundane.
Tedious tasking and chores galore!
Unappreciated.
And disregarded as un-glamorous duty.
But there is something to be learned in folding loads of laundry.
Patience.
Satisfaction through servitude.
Attention to detail.
And most importantly... attention to Love.

A panicked red flash
Flying from a loud rude crowd.
Bustling, beating, branded brutes
Do not make mother proud.

Quickened feet through cedars. Ferns.
The chase is on. Her time's undone.
For when the master of her castle wakes,
She'll be there for the taking by One.

Fields of music
And caverns of light,
Fill me with
A void of night.

"Crumb Control to Captain Munchie:
Any sign of foreign debris?"

"Negative. We've got Berry Crackles to the East,
Marshmallows to the West,
Graham Crackers at your six.
No imminent danger at this time.
Will inform upon foreign sugar filled morsel encounter.
Over!"

A canvas of possibility,
colored magnificently for the occasion,
yet inevitably disposable.
Though my life be short,
I witness the Joy of my purpose.
And they love me for it.