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July 15, 2011

I like it when the world is still sleepy, but beginning

its slow, sensuous journey to wakefulness…

like when I begin to wake,

first I get warm, throw the covers off

then stretch,

then resist the coming light and

bury my head in my pillows

“just a few more minutes”

and the sun sometimes obliges but

usually she begins her ascent anyway;

even when I’m tired or

hung over and

even when I was up with sick, crying kids

or insomnia

or nightmares,

the sun insists on rising

and waking me and my earth

welcoming me, however much I may not want to come,

and if I stop

and look and

breathe maybe I will see

the warmth before it becomes heat

the dew before it burns off

the shadows before they disappear

the rabbits before they hide

the birds before they fly

and I might even see,

if I look hard enough, a glimpse of myself before

the day exacts it demands and molds me and shapes me into what

the day needs me to be.

And maybe, if I come often enough, and early enough,

the day will have a harder time molding and shaping me

and I can just


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