Rain, steady all night, now abates.
Silence is soon filled by song sparrows,
the low mourn of a dove.
Wind through trees
shaking water from leaves.
And my first yawn of the morning
is my first engagement
with the possibilities of a new day.
The past is washed away.
My dreams are now rivulets
rolling toward the bay.
I’m still an old map with inaccurate coastlines
and the word “Unknown”
inscribed in my northern reaches.
But the day is clear.
The cartographers are working on me.
Already, blank spaces
are populated by details.
Soon enough, I fill my boundaries.
You can navigate by me.
