Morning has opened her arms. The forest light comes gently, tenderly into my eyes. I am the lover in the bed. I am the fisher of men. It is time to rise.
The trill of the mama bird, the building of the nest. I listen and I know her heart.
I am the wandering lost since she left me. She lays in the forest under a grave marker of ash cloth and copper words. Beloved
A small and rowdy pup bites my toes as I walk to the kitchen for sustenance. He will never know my heart is broken. I squat down and he studies me with my finger in his mouth, gnawing.
The light calls me. The day surrounds me. I will chose thankful. I will chose Open