A poem by the late Michael McNeilley.
morning becomes you
since you have to
start somewhere
honor the morning
choose your ritual
exercise or a cigarette
coffee tea or milk
meditation or simply
time at the window
make it your own
no need to look ahead
empty into the moment
some day the day
will end abruptly you
can count on that
let the morning open
like a crocus through
snow all beginnings
are precious
know the first step
whatever the
direction
you can never be sure
you are headed
the right way
but one step may be
all you have left
make it light
mcn
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