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September 15, 2017



At three forty seven a.m. my mind
is multiplying – emails (pending),
birthdays (ravelling), workshops

(unravelling), business (just launch!) and
dogs to kennel. (I don’t have a dog.)
My remote is channel-flipping – colour

and volume to max. I’m quietly calling
Grace, my meditation mantra, to breathe
deep, flood chaos with muffling calm.

She’s hesitant, not quite materialized,
so the channels hop and jar again –
fizzing urgency, vibrating clamour. Still

Grace is loitering back-stage. She smiles;
knowing pre-dawn worm-holes lead
through barbed mazes to this. At eight

forty seven I’m mining meaning, seeding
seeds, untangling discordant strings to arc
a gentle glade. Settling into Thursday with

words, and Grace. Stars are blanked by
cloud, but crystal-sharp. They’re pulsing

yesterdays (orchestrated chaos), lighting
tomorrows, and tomorrow’s daylight grace.


*the worries that gather as one lies sleepless before dawn (Old English)
Thanks to @RobGMacfarlane for a timely tweet with this wonderful word (04 Sep 7 am)

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