For the Moment

It was in Vancouver

at breakfast, before my

second cup of coffee.

I had a moment, a long

moment, before the next

task showed its teeth,

before the meetings began,

and the clink of silverware

glistened slightly, and the

coffee warmed my throat,

and I fell into the well of

a silence that was there

before I was born.

For the moment, the

thing that waits behind

my tongue dropped way

down behind my heart,

like an iridescent fish

hovering under all that

water near the center

of the earth.

Now the phone is

ringing. The emails are

flitting, and the voices

in the hive of which I

am a part are mounting.

But the coffee is

steaming and my mind

for now is clear and the

path between it and my

heart is open and I

finally have nothing

to say.