In A Late June Dawn A Small Poem For Sana

In a late June dawn first a solitary bird speaks, then a pair, eventually scores with their insistent tunes and unvarying rhythms. A pause. And the sun's light streams across the green language, shines its blue light over us and them. Another pause... By now, I'm out of bed, stumbling in the direction my body knows well enough to lean. I drink first the light, then the air, finally clear crystal water. This is the purest moment of the rest. After it dissolves into the lightness of time spent, I must do my best to preserve purity. (But I know you are already helping, which is why I feel no fear...) I stand alone on my balcony, watching shapes appearing in the haze hovering still in these early moments. I would not discount any of the common features, such as feisty squirrels, song birds, invisible hawks and owls, shy deer, and the occasional fox, sunning himself as it to scoff at the restraint of others. Hopefully, this will not become a day I'll need to negotiate with myself for every scrap of success. I prefer those days the human element is subsumed in the rest of it, animal, mineral, plant and God. I do not mind the need to play a role with consummate skill, to convince my companion animals I am still one with them. But please make the whole of it effortless, like a dance so well rehearsed it takes no effort to excel, as if this dawn in late June opened on a garden greeting us, with no trace of subtle serpents or forbidden fruits.