A man paces
hands in pockets 
eyes focused ahead 
looking at nothing 
and his mind 
a million miles
away thinking of
and maybe about 
asking himself why 
back and forth 
like a needle 
on a sewing
machine threading reasons
he will walk 
these few steps 
until the spool
his life is 
runs out of 
the thread that 
his life was

High in the mountains 
windows I assume catch 
the very earliest sun
and begin to smile 
from south to north 
and it just feels 
like I’m the Creator 
viewing the infinite glow
of glory and galaxy 
moments after I declared 
let it be good 

This is 
by far 
my most
favorite time 
when everything 
stretches and 
yawns and 
takes that 
first fresh 
breath of 
new day 
it’s almost 
as though 
everything comes 
to a 
complete stop 
for just 
a moment 
until began 
begins again 

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