I stopped at the sink to rinse out my coffee cup
at the very instant that the rising sun shot
anticipatory flames of color from below the horizon,
igniting the clouds with incendiary hope for just a minute . . . .
Before I could call you to the window the fire had flattened into
the familiarity of sunshine—light all around us—not just promises.
A friend told me about a man whose dog left the yard
everyday at dusk . . . . one evening he followed,
and found the hound sitting on a hill watching the sunset.
He followed again the next day, and the day after that—
sitting,each night, next to the dog as the fading daylight
colored itself into the gathering dark. No one said a word.
And it dawns on me that life is made up of missed moments,
of unseen sunsets and empty early morning kitchen windows.
I don’t say that as lament, but to name the grace that offers
a sunrise and and the kindness of those we can follow.