Slowly Waking

Honey melts with lemon
and hot water in a cup
made by a local potter.

Start the day breathing,
writing.

The cleansing ritual
of words making their way
onto the blank space
erases the mind's holding,

opens up the universe
to liquid possibility
and forgiveness for clenching
the fingers of too much hope
around nothingness.

Instead, this morning,
open your aching hands,
unfold your arms like wings,
and fly off this page
into the sound
of the full moon.

Another day
waking slowly
from all dreaming.