I am in a January
which thinks it is an April.
I fully expect to see
the rose in bloom and perhaps it is.
In my mind I have transplanted
the marigolds and set the annuals
in their proper places.
In my part of the world I awake.
It is dawn and I prepare for the new day.
The dogs are put out and
the papers brought in.
And in the dailyness there is virtue.
I marvel at the continuity of it all.
In the beauty of the day
I now see all days and
in the quiet of the night,
I note the world's silence.
In recognition of who I am
in connection with All That Is,
I am grateful.
I have taken this gift of time
and richly wear it like a money belt.