I wait to be warmed
encouraged by the mourning doves
who coo the sun to rising
and comfort my broken heart.
Safe in the silence of early summer dawn
I’m told that only promises made
right
now
must be kept.
The only one I can make is that I will return tomorrow.
It is not just the start of a day,
but of a new dream that
will feed underground on the soil of the dead one
sifting from the past what has bearing on the future
until it is strong enough
to grow a vision.
Maybe I’m the only one who knows.
Everyone else is sleeping.
It’s just the dove and me to wait and watch
the cupped hands of love
that come from everywhere
to make the most beautiful vessel.
The sun shines on what’s inside.
If only I could see what the sun sees.
