Tuesday Morning

Mist on silver glass
The anonymity
Of ritual
Ablution.

Much as
Automatic aftermath
Of soon forgotten lover.

Dark and brimming
China cup
Censer
Swirls
Prayered palm psalm
In promise steam
As sun streams
Through aspen leaves
Filling black coffee
With stars.

In full gallop, joyously akimbo
I gather incrementals
Of doing and being
Feeling
Everyone
Emerge
From the cisterns
Of themselves.

Automotive interrogations
Re-commence.
Scribbling
In their notebooks
Of raindrops
To be avoided
At all cost
Much as rumors
Of cathedral
Pine.