Smooth reef water stretching from point to point

encircles the wind-stirred surface. A fisherman beyond,

a paddler and a loon within, the first morning traffic

before the wind picks up and gulls snatch at glitter

on the wave-tops for breakfast.

Hummingbirds in their whirring flight

enliven the air, heavy after yesterday's storm.

A few grey cloud patches still hang in the sky

like the residue of last night's dreams trying to push

their way through my pen onto the page.

I'd like a day of silent sunshine in my soul

looking to the sky for direction.

But the bees are beginning to bother the clover, a chipmunk

eyes my toast crumbs, her quivering nose inaudibly reminding,

like the hummingbird's up and down head between wary sips,

that silence is just a pause — for food or a quick breath, maybe

a shaft of spirit — intermissions and thin openings in the warring

daily buzz.