Sentinel

Cold and silent, she stands at the window
pregnant with hope,
an empty vessel
waiting to be filled.

Snow falling on faces
silent whispers on eyelashes
munchings and crunchings of footsteps
warm burrows; safe and secure.

Quiet sentinel
here at the beginning of days
where stories begin
and lives entwine.

This was ours
is ours
will always be ours
if we want it so

and I do
I do
God help me,
I do.

God is a gambling trickster
a bored housewife
feeding the penny slots
waiting for her payoff

she pulls the lever
and watches our spinning dials
waiting to see if they line up
whirr whirr whirr

click
click
click
Jackpot?