toward what is possible:
the glow of each day, and rising
to meet it as it comes.
where i am never alone, and crossed
by both grace and fortune,
where my great grandmother opens doors
and the heart of me flies free
over a slate blue lake.
in the clay dreams of the future
there is time to build and time to rest
and you will hold my hand in each,
and you will hold my hand until
we are called to other mornings.