EARLY ONE MORNING

It’s more like a race to the dawn—to see if something—
another way, an alternative to what most
just accept as they only way, the only answer—
in these peaceful little hours of the day.
“Will I make in time?” you ask.
“Will I get there?” Some days, all of our steps
are for that race—every strike of the axe,
every swing of the pick or spade.
Even our tired, shallow breaths
at the end of a long day.

But there are other days
where only the sun finds us; at least we’re
not sleeping. The world always sends
some part of itself as its representative—the wind,
the cold, the rain—to let us know
what we’re looking for is out there, to tell us
when we don’t come across it,
“You’re getting closer. Tomorrow, maybe.”

(October 17, 2007)