Like frontier angels
We floated with few words
Down the stairs
Through the doorways
Stepping silently
On socked feet
In the farmhouse
Of the Great Plains
Nestled next to the creek
For guidance and play
Like frontier angels
Our flannel nightgowns
Billowed with the heat
Of the giant oil furnace
Heating our bones
Directly and deep
During the dark
Of bedtime hours and
Before the dawns bright
We connected together
As children of Light.
-Kelly Voelker
NOTE: I wrote this about my Mom and I, in our flannel nightgowns, taking a moment to enjoy the comfort of hearth and home amid harsh winters in the Midwest. During these moments, we weren't Mother and Daughter, we were just two souls connecting in silence, twice a day, in the same spot to recharge for the next 12 hours.
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