we wake well
in the early hours

i sit
in a steady hive

of light
where stillness

is the reward
the chipmunks rest

beside me
and care not

that i exist
a carolina wren explores

the cold ashes
in the hearth

of my brother’s backyard fireplace
never knowing

that i am sitting right here
a tiny red spider knits

between the leaves
of the hydrangeas

oblivious of me
or the machine pushing

through the blue silk
of the sky

is there any greater truth in life?
is there anything better than the industry of each day?
when you leave, will i miss you?