Mornings are the best for me,
early to bed,
early to rise,
as I sit with my back
against one window,
looking out another,
imagining what life would be like
if another journey
had been taken;
what I have,
what I don't have,
what I need,
what I don't need,
what I do,
flows through my head
each morning like turning on
a light switch and then...
these images are gone... until,
the next day,
or the next day... forever,
repeating but never moving on;
accepting what is
or is not and
moving ahead to encounter
whatever is next,
without worrying about
which time of the day
is best for me.
September 1999
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