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.