Morning

I'm back! After several months, I was able to write again. Hope this continues. :-)

There is something metallic in the sound of the tiny rings scraping the rod
as you draw open the curtains letting light pass in from our window.
Outside, some passing breeze blows lightly on the chime above our door,
and the tinkling plays on and on in the memory of my ears.
I grope for the blanket to my chest with my right hand;
With my left I feel and fix the pillow under my head.
As I open my eyes, I see you standing there before the window,
the light casting your shadow on me.
This morning’s radiance gives me the illusion of your translucence,
blurring the edges of your white chemise and your skin.
For some moment I keep still and watch you move
so very lightly and with grace: picking some clothes here,
Some fallen notes there, standing still again and looking outside the window.
There must be something in this morning, in this space enclosing us:
all the stillness and movement and sounds and silence I seem to sense:
Your feet on the floor, your bosom heaving as you breathe,
some leafless branch tapping on the window.
Things are so calm, so silent.
They seem to come from outside.
Sitting on the bed now, I wonder at the precision of your movements
As if they were something done forever, well-rehearsed, and now at play.
And I wonder I’m still here on the bed watching, feeling everything in wonder.
The chimes outside continue, and the sounds of our breaths continue.
And each of us is waiting who will be the first to speak.