“…knows we were all meant for something”* (Ada Limón)

Yes, Poet, even you
stumbling from bed,
4:00 a.m., the quilt-warm
breath-easing suspiration

of your red-haired wife,
young mother humming
even in sleep whisper-songs
for twin three year olds

you check to confirm their presence,
then wait on the purring
coffee maker, the carafe’s
gingerly balance of dreams

and visions, you knowing
now what is meant
slow letter-by-letter alphabet,
pencil tracks across the

legal pad answering
the mockingbird’s joyful greeting,
the early darkness lifting,
this friend’s assurance

of your lifetime calling,
each of you singing
what you believe
the other surely knows.

for Katrina

*Ada Limón, “Carrying,” The Carrying: Poems, Milkweed Editions, 2018, p. 70.