I love
My little room
Entire silvered by dawn.

Tossing into trash bin
Yesterday’s coffee pod
I toss out yesterday’s cares.
Inserting a new pod
I turn the page
Of my small life.

As the Keurig brews
That first cup
It sounds a shush:
Quiet be, still be, just be
Look at the cedars and firs
Glowing with the
Fire of God.

So I sip
Coffee and chill morning air
And rock my rocking chair
To the rhythm
Of birds at the feeder

All else can wait

Before there were walls and temples,
before kings forged crowns of gold,
the first light rose — a gift from the Creator.

He placed the sun to pour warmth upon our skin,
to stir the sleeping earth awake,
to mend weary bones with its radiant fire.

Yet we remember —
it is not the sun itself that heals,
but the One who set it burning.
He fashioned it as His messenger,
carrying light to our eyes
and strength to our souls.

When I stand here at the edge of the world
and feel its golden breath on my face,
I feel Him near —
the true Healer,
the giver of every dawn.

Every sunrise reminds me,
you should still be here.
To braid my hair like old times,
Cause honestly, it's a mess right now.

I'm still kind-hearted,
just like you taught me,
But the truth is,
I never learned how to live without you.

Every beautiful thing,
reminds me of you.
you were sensational-
In your own incomparable way.

The truth is,
I'll never say goodbye.
You live in my heart,
Still guiding me,
And I know you're proud of me
wherever you are

I can hear a hummingbird blink
in the stillness of the moment
before the sunrise.
The light beckons, yawning
with the twilight,
Dew refracting the rainbows.
As watchful as I am,
Sleep pulls at me
like a hungry lover
beckoning me into
becoming a burrito.

Dark fur purring
beside me as I contemplate
the moments between
solace and silence,
the hummingbird gone,
to be left alone
with my thoughts
and the purring.

This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped, which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.

I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.

I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.

I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem

Sometimes
You’re the heavy rain
that ends the thirst and drought.
Sometimes you’re the ocean
between the waves.
Sometimes
You’re the sunrise
That breaks the night.

Sometimes

You’re the train that never arrives.

I’m not a morning person,
And I’ve never liked birds,
But today I sat outside
With my coffee in hand.

Yeah, it was hot,
But the heat felt good on my skin,
Like the sun was embracing me
As he rose from his slumber,
Like I was the first thing he reached for
When he woke up.

The breeze swayed the grass gently,
Carrying quiet secrets in its sigh,
And for a moment I wondered
If mornings had always felt this kind,
Or if today was just different,
Because I finally let myself enjoy it.

It was a good morning,
My thoughts finally at ease.
I’ve always loved the sunset,
But watching the sky fade
From cool blues to warm hues
Felt special in a way I didn’t expect.