the branches bare wave in the breeze
early morning’s kiss in fog descends
and as i walk through the sleepy courtyard
all i can do is think of what came before
a momentary song, a crumpled piece of paper
a notebook half written in my pocket
what more can i do now than lift my voice
and pray
and seek in thought for that peace
sweet as honey on the bread that i had for breakfast
oh no matter that the air is damp with seaside humor
and that the tune from last week’s show
keeps dancing in my head
for i look to a higher hope than which i can rest my
hand upon
and in these pages now i write of all i’ve thought and said
aware that these represent but a leaf upon the wind
a sharp intake of breath as i consider eternity
and nothing more is mine now than that which was given me
so under this sun i sit in this waking courtyard
meditating as i think on the absence of that veil
and the lingering joy of that one epoch defining tree