When it comes to surrender,

better drink three hot cups of faith

following dawn.

Watch the light grow and, as your belly softens

in warmth, your eyes will braid upward,

adrift with the steam.

This life isn’t up to you,

not really, but the soporific of control sells.

Sit in your pillowed chair, stare out your version of

the sash window

and know, Mystery weaves us.

Our work is to listen for its music

and step into the slipstream,

longing and beauty our tiny rudder

within that flowing power.