Matins

( For James)

At dawn,
I hear the sparrow. Her psalm 
is the desert
              as morning shepherds in
              this stillness

          

               and the ancient tree
seems more bent, humbler
than last night’s figure
                  brooding in the moonlight.

 At dawn

I watch you breathe,
restful, rhythmic
                 like a prayer chant
dispelling any fear

                     and the web of your breath

catching  light, embers
                  of a fallen whisper –

                   I love you.