The alarm rings at the appointed time
I’m sure of it, even though I don’t look
Some things, you just count on –
like the ability of a clock to know the time
But the alarm isn’t ringing
it’s singing
and talking
the rhythm of jazz
the counter beat
to the woman’s voice
rich, dark chocolate
poetry
spoken song
to greet the day
Her words have already
faded into the place just beyond memory
but I am left with the sense
of enlargement –
of being granted the gift
of being made more than I was
just a moment before
Before the beginning
I am yet blessed
