In the early morning hour, before the sun has peeked over the horizon
and the light is still soft and tender
I slide from my bed,
hair still a tangled mess like the bed sheets after a night
with my lover.
My bare feet pad down the hallway
toward the door which leads to our garden.
I contemplate the slippers at my doorway
and venture without them.
This morning, I want direct connection, the grit and cleansing grime of the earth under my feet.
At our garden’s edge, I stand quietly, an observer to the beginnings of a new day.
The first chirps of the purple martins and bluebirds,
the distant hum of the third shift making its way home,
the relative quiet of my country made at home in the city.
I look down at my hands, dirt from yesterday’s labours still under my nails and
add a mental note to the day’s list to buy a new fingernail brush.
The morning dew coolly anoints my bare feet
The sun shyly peeks past the edge of my world and pauses,
asking permission to enter my morning meditations.
I smile a gentle nod and ask her in.
A new day is begun and I am absolved.
~ Mk Michaels, 2010
