AS I TURN THEN TO KAREN,

 

AS I TURN THEN TO KAREN,

                        to receive her into the day--

click of the light from bedroom

signaling her entrance. Rain

as coffee finishes, and fire

in the fireplace. Click of coffee

cup on counter, and the twist

of plastic container, as Karen

reaches inside for two

biscottis. The pouring of her

coffee, and, as she walks

to her chair, preparing to sit,

first her breath, followed

by the cushions, rustling fabric,

receiving her body. Her mouth

hollows itself, enlarging

into its own sound chamber,

between echo and whistle,

as she sips, and tastes, the coffee.

We’ve not yet said

Good morning to each other,

each of us acknowledging

what is a beatitude,

this sudden explosion of song,

this ancient blessingway.

Jim

20 November 2024