The dawn breaks the night and brings the day; the day brings a road down which to walk.

Do I belong to the day? The night? The dawn?

Lord, you pour loving kindness along the path I walk: It is the journey to which I belong. The way you have laid out for me.

To the road I belong, your road.

(Letter #3,909)

Supine, my hands and feet just off the rug, nestled in grass.

Does the carpet support me? The grass? Earth underneath?

My bones?

A small world teems among the blades, unnoticed as I wonder about my stillness.

(Letter #3,908)

Is it better to sit in the grass, grounded, or upon a stool, ready for the workday? Where are we more alive to the world?

Is the world alive to us, as well?

Let me greet the dawn, Lord, as the dawn greets me.

(Letter #3,907)

Quiet dwelling, dawn nearing.

My dreams were troubled, and I bring nighttime’s woes with me.

As I leave my home, Lord, let me drop my cares.

When I return, let them have dissolved in the noon sun.

And through the day, Lord, let me forget, forget.

(Letter #3,906)