Right now,
there is merely
a sprinkling
of rain,
that I can hear
H E R E.
And sense, as it
falls on my shoulders.
T H E R E:
a wild turkey
calls others —
and chattering:
as birds begin
morning song
in acknowledging
the openings
to light, in the
e m e r g e n c e
of this day,
amidst the
standing
s i l e n c e
of the madronas,
guarding:
still.
Darkness sways
in its hold
on the
evaporating
n i g h t.
A promise of
that which lies
on the other
side of our
experience,
in contrast —
dark: light;
yet: unforgettable.
Grateful for
both,
I am.
In whispering,
the sentinels
of this coastal ridge:
r e a c h —
As am I.
—
THE NORTH | 4.44am
tsg