The insistent alarm
and furnace sounds ---
I open my eyes and,
out my window, see
young leaves, sun-touched,
sway, disturbed by a squirrel. 

I stand hesitantly 
and move stiffly
into another morning,
accepting the gift
of this time
and place. 

Black winged and gold-tipped
butterflies, and I
feed from the lilacs’ fragrance 
and mourn
in this secular wilderness
as I map out my day.