Morning,
And the feathers of this new day's bird
Are as yet unruffled.
The house sleeps quietly.
The heater drones on.
The hum the computer
accompanies the tune
of my own private thoughts.
The cat in my lap
stands and stretches.
Across the hall, the children awake.
This room is serene, but
there's a chill that seeps in
through a gap in the kitchen front door.
I stand.
I stretch also.
Perhaps the quilt of these moments
will blanket my day
with patchwork pieces
of grace.
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