(for Diane's 50th)

    Today opens before you
    like the right page
    in a favourite book, an old friend

    held by the hand in warm sunlight.
    Lying unwritten on the page,
    its shape is the placid O

    of your face upon waking,
    emptied by sleep and ready to receive
    whatever gifts the day bestows:

    Will it be pleasure? The touch of
    morning breeze on skin? Love?
    Already you know how it goes.

    All your life you've deepened
    this moment, the one
    you embrace by your

    presence in it.
    Still it seems as new
    as each taken breath. They say

    each cell in your body is replaced
    once every seven years.
    So today is really halfway between

    who you are and who you are
    and even if you could know

    what was to come
    how it all turns out, why
    would you turn your back

    on this day, this life
    when you can let tomorrow
    keep its sweet surprise?

22 October 2001   23:13 hours
rain (2001 remix) { } a poet is instructed by the death of his master