At dawn I slip out of bed
away from my sleeping wife
into my slippers out the door into the cool
juniper-scented garden
I and my coffee ease into a chair beside the pond
and beyond across the pined valley the sun
makes sandstone bluffs bright
contrast to all else in cool shadow
Four goldfinches flash yellow and black
dip from hollyhocks down to the pond
then disappear into dark ponderosa
a red-eyed towhee flutters through its bath where
water sheets over flat grey stones
stellar jays rasp and cruise from tree to adobe wall
nuthatches strut up and down tree trunks
hummers dart through falling water
probe ruby penstemon careen through shaded air
and too soon
I am called inside to shower shave breakfast
the day heats the phone rings and
certain things must be done but
in my center nests a fragrance of grace:
the birds are there
—–Tim Amsden
