This fuzzy time 
before morning has
shaved off last
nights shadow making 
next day smooth
I sit think 
thank and write 
this dark isn’t 
so deep more 
pencil lead gray
scribbles on a
sheet of paper 

Before I couldn’t 
stand the thought 
and today I 
can’t imagine without 
I enjoy this 
early last bit 
of night after 
sleep before morning 
if peace had 
a place this 
is where it
would call home 

It’s like this 
almost like this
maybe every morning 
washed and brushed 
sipping and listening 
looking and waiting 
for the sun 
and then you 
to turn and 
smile and reach
touch and kiss 
join me sipping 

In the corner 
a salt crystal 
glows its orange 
spreading like freshly 
spilled milk until 
the darkness swallows 
leaving behind dust 
through which I
go a ghost 
to the kitchen 
and the living 

Imagine the womb
or even underwater 
a world beyond 
to behold muffled 
like earmuffs keeping 
out the cold 
and hands too
stopping the noise 
this I think 
is what this 
is like quiet
but not silence 
for in quiet 
things are there 
much more so 
than in silence 
I’m reminded that 
things are there