The birds are softly singing
their sunrise song
The sky is a whisper of blue
Out of this window
I see a thin strip of it
framed between the window sill
and tree tops
I am cradled in the in-between
This here...is this the mystery living?
is this the discovery of self?
is this the ridiculousness of two people
trying to find center?
I contemplate leaving him
while the blue is still brightening
and the birds still sing their song