The Anchor Holds

Sound the bell slowly
there is no urgency
hurry and rush do not exist.

drink the cup deliberately
savor the richness that rises
from depths and intensity.

Life’s fabric is worn thin
once vibrant colors blend
run together into muted puddles.

the ship is buffeted by
inevitable winds, expected
but uninvited. Almost friends.

And through it all the anchor holds
steady and sure. It holds. A toast
to last things and first things.
Drain the glass.