Before you, twenty minutes
seemed like a long time
to be silent — then, it’s
difficult to come by.
Before us, the morning charm
rang silently — now,
twenty minutes with you in my arm
feels like eternity.
People say there’s a lot to teach you,
but what will you teach me?
My tiny masterpiece,
who here is the yogi or devotee?
Take my million little kisses
as I try to rock you back to sleep.
Myself, held up by some great presence,
a being beyond me.
A lion’s yawn, your body
held up by my knees.
You remind me that words aren’t as important
as the spaces in between,
that letting go is filling up,
to trust my intuition,
that to pause is to praise — you’ve become
my new meditation.