I face east in the dim living room
and see the sky held up with thick black arms
of branches, the fading blue of night and the pink bellies
of dawn clouds. Before I parcel out the hours
to both the beloved
and the necessary,
I see these moments are mine.
What words will I pour into their waiting cup?
What silences will I fold between my hands?
Gratefully writing (and photographing)
along with other lovely folks