A Day Unlike Yesterday

Today I drank from your mug,

though mine sat waiting.

I sit in our yard,

awaiting your arrival,

contemplating what I am.

Photographs show me

in many guises.

The mirror too—

its stranger,

never quite the same.

The man I keep there

is not yesterday’s man.

So I let the idea of a face—

my face—

fade away.

I wait for yours

Like a stone in search of balance

to fill the space of my awareness.

And then you emerge,

fresh from the house:

familiar,

yet unlike yesterday.

The coffee warms me more

from this mug.

My being steadies

when I meet your gaze.

“I” falls away.

My face is your face.

Here, where my face should be,

peace arrives—

the space where you happen,

today.