a threshold

that morning,
when I saw you
for the first time

I realized that a whole wild and precious life
had barely just prepared me
for this apprenticeship to the beauty of the world.

when once I had met your
image in a dream
I pushed you away.

saying, “I’m not here for this,”
as I continued putting boxes around everything
and anyone, I might love.

now you sit,
still outside the threshold of our home.
”Deck not safe, do not step out,”
it says, at the door
between you and me,
and the sunlight
spilling through the redwoods

and here on the bed,
I transcribe love songs
through the cedar smoke

-big sur, fall 2019