Some Days I Wake Up Walking Over the Desert
Some days I wake up walking over the desert
and see pieces of me everywhere:
in these knuckles of ancient trees,
in that tumbleweed of soul in this spring wing,
in the tiny flowers rooted on heart rock;
even a piece of sleep that I thought was mine flew
in the blue wing of day out of a dead limb.
Ah, this gathering and gathering of self,
this brown joy in the eyes of a beloved dog,
this dust that dances into blossom,
this little notebook that is the earth,
this endless love that when we least expect it
knocks on our day and says:
let the day begin.
Insisting with the only life I know
on some peace at the end of solitude
and desperation, I have arrived
here, at this desert place,
where a magic that few would want
rings light around me, where grace
comes toward me, one step at a time.
--James Tipton
