Editor’s note: Former DC Service Corps volunteer, Kathleen Strycula, shares a poem inspired by the gift of a new day.

It is a slow awakening with the dawn.
I think of Mary on her bed,
Fabric gathered around her in folds and wrinkles,
Face gently turned towards her golden visitor.
I wonder.
Was he unexpected,
Or did the days lean toward the coming mystery
Like a breath held in anticipation?

I breathe deeply, and lean into the quiet darkness.
I anticipate the herald –
Let it be done,
I announce to the silence.
But he has not come.
Not like that.

Mornings are sacred; I know this deep within me.
The dawn from on high shall break upon us.
This one does not shatter the dark
Like the golden visitor that
Henry Ossawa Tanner found on his canvas.
Rather, it whispers its way to gold.

The day is my visiting angel,
And I move forward to meet him.
To learn how to say yes.

Reflection Question: In what ways can you invite God into your morning routines?