Twilight healed the leftover tea cups
Sitting idle in the still,
A charm that’s still gathering in asleep corners
Of those bright eyes, closed.
There’s no shame here this morning.
There’s nothing awkward about our knowledge.
There’s bowls full of porridge.
Gandhi and Buddha would be proud.
Krishna Murti would not cry.
Dawson City will find everlasting sun,
and Paradise exists, wu wei.
To which we drive on,
Into another moment in time,
Which will come to change us
As sleep refreshes and food fills.