New Day

In the beginning was the word.
And the word was, and the word was with.

Always looking for a place to start…
Sunlight through the window wakes me…

Across the meadow, a mole laying where the cat laid it, night over green.

Sitting on the flat rock, under oak, listening to bird song.

I pick up a fallen branch, one more for a future fire, maybe Saturday night.

The sun is warm, waiting to hot.

A cat calls, comes, says hello.

I walk to the empty house, waiting too.

Water, flame, tea.

It’s a beginning..