before dawn

i watch the bart train navigate
through the city lights in
the last lingering darkness of night
a thin thread of light, silent at this distance
snaking, sliding, slicing through
the jumbled horizon
the air is cold on my face
but in that enlivening, not painful way
i feel the moisture in it's taste
and i am grateful for the gentle and consistent
rain of late
this is morning, today
my daughter woke with a squeaking shriek at 4 am,
hungry and complaining a little, though she still smiles
every time our eyes meet

what an angel

i surrender to the sharpness with which i am awake
and rise,
to start the day
why not?
this may be the only time i get to myself, today
quick and quiet
stolen moments, precious in their weight
this is me, today
new and unfolding
bold and broken open
trying,
trying,
trying to shake loose the hold of doubt's roots in my mind
to release and remold the texture and shape of matter, of muscle
and sinew and bone
alone, this morning
with myself
the lights, the night
the cold, fresh air
that presses up all around me,
reminding
my skin of its shape