(for Sharon Repp)
I woke, out of nowhere, at that odd hour that directs your attention to the thinnest sounds -
the drone of a small plane passing overhead, the first conversation of birds carving out
their breakfast nooks, the sigh of the sheets beneath, breath threading the lungs.
Sometimes, the whole world narrows into single, sharp focus, and the usual,
missable nuances erupt out of the forgotten corners. If you are willing, you will remain, patient,
as the unfolding continues, the very air humming with a thousand new songs.
If you are willing, you will understand all of this has been waiting for you, and will birth itself
over and over again in the inopportune but porous stretches of sleeplessness.
The day is full of wide margins. It isn't just your usefulness that matters, but how you occupy
the spaces that hold no shape or consequence. There is room enough for you, too. Listen.