Storm. Shelter. Morning. Guarded by Otto

The wind is roaring through the dark,
and rain beats on the pane;
yet here my bed is warm and still,
a refuge from the rain.

With Otto resting in my hand,
I breathe in soft and slow;
while storms go wandering where they will,
I’m held in gentle glow.

The shadows dance upon the wall,
The world is tucked away;
Young Otto guards the quiet room
Until the break of day.

And when that morning comes in light,
I’ll hear the blackbirds sing.
It’s almost as though God made them
An earthly, morning, ring.

© Michael McFarland Campbell, 2026 —NeuroDivine.blog
Shared with care; please credit if you share.

A note from Michael

Otto is my autism support bear. While he doesn’t go everywhere with me, the simple sensation of feeling his soft paws, helps me to ground myself when the world feels far too loud. This poem is about that special sanctuary.



Leave a comment

Cover of "A Living Cloud of Irish Witnesses.
March 2026
S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031