waking to a dark warm silence

waking to a dark warm silence
birds begin to sing only after she
sips slowly,  the first strong cup
of coffee-- with thoughts

of missing her father-- the rain
begins to pour clean upright
patterns--to somehow cleanse
the salt stream, & to soothe

the heart moving towards
a greater assemblage
still so early- even
the birds sing shorter songs

she knows somehow
the value of brevity
no thing in the world
could hold more meaning

than simply to steep
in the growing light
listening with a greater intensity
leaving her insatiable mind

to narrow, melt, vanish
without a trace of heavy
weeds no longer keeping
her from breathing freely

so early in the morning,
this rain scented air
spreads its healing fingers,
strokes her temples

a testament to time
& a learned willingness
to begin, without wavering
a still lake on fire