Crescently

Morning sings to me

in colors of carmel & burnt sugar

Dripping upon my tongue, glazing trees

The cold crisp songs tighten my skin

Enter my breathing,

Becoming my quiet praising

Thy will be done

by Winter moon’s movement,

Her crescent assent,

silent slip into view

Her guidance inserted into me

in the curved shape of my rib

Hugging my daybreak inhale

Morning sings to me

In notes of noticing…

birdsong, shivering of trees

the silver sliver of possibilities,

The crescent’s promise of gifts

Yet to be revealed within the arc of change

An unstoppable flow

of what this season of Winter brings

To unknow by noticing

barely perceptible shifts toward Spring

Morning sings to me all of this

When I soften my grip of needing to know

Standing small under sky, being sung open to presence

And my humble smile—Crescently—singing back to the unknowables