-This poem reflects on renewal as a quiet daily practice, where beginning again comes through small acts of openness, attention, and trust.
Not all return is bright at first,
not every opening sings,
some mornings ask a quieter faith,
a softer way to start.
The cup is filled, the curtain drawn,
the window lifts to let in air,
and on the table, in the light,
the smallest things become enough.
A leaf uncurls beyond the glass,
the rain has left the garden clean,
and somewhere in the waking yard,
a bird repeats its simple truth.
So much of life is learned this way,
not once, but over, and over,
the willing heart, the opening hand,
the daily art of beginning again.