I make note of this bright hour,
passed in the quiet, alone.
No song is its equal, no poem,
only the joy a child knows.
I mark my hunger and thirst,
my tired muscles, fingers, and bones.
I set down my ignorance;
beside it, I place all I understand.
Let the two know one another.
Let them smile and become friends.
From Songs and Letters, first published January 25, 2006.
June 24, 2011
[click to enlarge]