When nothing rushes in to meet you
morning loosening into afternoon,
time unbuttoning itself without asking,
The day holds its breath with you.
Light drifts across the floor
like it’s learning where to rest.
The clock speaks in small mercies.
Your hands, emptied of urgency,
remember how to open.
Silence does not arrive empty.
It fills with the sound of becoming,
a yes still forming,
a future pacing softly in the next room.
And you stand there, not waiting,
but listening
as the world continues its gentle turning,
inviting you to step forward
only when the moment knows your name.
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