It’s the delicate 
for me the 
spoon on side
of cup the 
sigh and that
very first slurpy
sip of coffee 
making laughter and 
some off-color commentary 
about absent grace 
that prompts me 
and pardons you 
this silly morning 
dance this date
with dawn affection 
this pause and 
relief of relaxed
and quiet mood 

And like sleet
that comes before 
snow and after 
rain this middle 
lane of moisture 
taps and tinks
and tickles me 
it’s the maybe 
of most and
mayhem of many 
the uh oh
of interest and 
the caution and 
cause of nerves 
realizing that I 
might be delayed 
and the reason 
to stay here 
with you awhile 

It is the last 
few of almost everything 
and everywhere and everyone 
that I surely miss 
long before I go
every time I went 
for all those things 
that for so long 
or for so short 
weren’t just there but 
will also be here 
until and at last
others will replace them 
making always more every

I wish
it was
just one 
thing for 
one thing 
I would 
hardly miss 
but it
is many
and many 
makes more 
than I
will ever 
find again 

As you sleep 
I shall write 
imagining you on
some far off
lake oars in
hand skimming across 
the waters of 
your dreams mist
and fog hang
like gray sheers 
that open as
you pass through 
and at last 
reach the shore 
only to find 
me smiling you 
cup in hand 
asking you calm
or rough seas