Morning Song
The sun shines on your face
in the garden chair
the tufted titmouse sings
in the bowing acacia
the moles
commence excavating
their tunnels
you inhale deeply
the scent of your morning coffee
one breath
follows another
light slowly swallows
the shadows on the grass.
You are. The world is.
This is your life,
your one life.
Praise it.