Morning Meditation

When, between two books, the quieting sky appears,

or merely a patch of earth at evening—rejoice…

Ranier Maria Rilke

I’m trying to trace it

                                back.

There must be a defining

event—an event horizon!

That moment when it all went

awry—balagan. But try

as I might with a mind

notyetawake there is

nothing I can find, no

epiphany, awakening, no

destination no combination

words

          make

                  it

                     worse.

I’m with Rilke on this one.

I sip my burning hot black

coffee, sniff in the burning

sage, listen to the rumblings

of a dark-sky morning.

Beginning. The sage blows

past. Out the open January

window, mixing with the

saltiness of the sea.