Sitting Here

Sitting here in the

cool darkness of

morning, I fold my

memories back over

themselves, like a

bolt of unwound

linen or a batch of

Turkish taffy.

Watching each layer 

settle into itself - over 

and over onto the whole - 

captures me with comfort. 

I realize, without this pause 

I would have missed the rich 

hint of how a weave comes 

from combinings, how a treat 

comes from stirrings.  Across 

and through again; around 

and yet around again.

Sitting still reveals the intrepid

motion of life across life.  Warmth.

Again, and again, and yet one

more time again.