The Midline

From sleep
and warmth
always comes
the borrowed space. Don't encourage
or resist.
One more time then
to this place of
soft breath
a sigh
a witness tree
and the branding
of the truth.

This is my space. A blue dawn,
a half moon, what
was melted
now frozen to the
uncleared streets. The pleasures
of the predawn. I expand into
the space that is mine. Don't
ask
or expect
anything to get easier.
Lesson
relentlessly
learned:
instead ask
and hope
for courage. Courage, my dear.
Onward. The birds are
awake and
getting busy.

This is my space
intruded on
by all these signs
and little meanings
that try as I do
to diminish them
flash and shine at me
like this quarter here
and these two bluejays
watching me
through the windows. Why
did they come? All
deliberately
unbidden
but here you are.
I do not call you omens. Just
be yourselves.

I will say
the better prayer
and not bother
with the why. Come
and walk with me
if you will
or if you must.

I will show you
the fading half moon and
the coming dawn.