bread of life...

i live right behind the bread of life mission..
in pioneer square..in seattle..
sandwiched between the viaduct and the mission..
in the very thick, thickest of it all..
a year in the life of my years..
to be here and see what mischief i can make..
or find myself in...

living on a wing and a prayer..
sandwiched right in the center
of the heart feathers and the longing..
right in the center of the i don't know

we often make knowns for ourselves, eh?..
so my known for now is a year in seattle..
smack in betwixt the bread and the duct -
other than this..and this too is wibbly ..
i know not a nothing..

every morning before dawn
i head to myrtle edwards park..
about 75 minutes away..
the shade of cloudsky rises ~ just enough ~
for the olympics to peek out
and for tehoma, mt. rainier..the mountain..
thee cascade.. to present his very self-self..
snowlight glints a shimmer..
~just enough ~ to make me gasp and bow..

the homeless ones are beginning to stir..
the wooly blankets are moving and groaning..
rumpled shoes, set out.. awaiting feet..
plastic bags to ensure dry..
last night's empties lined up like piano keys..
shopping carts loaded to hippopotamus..
dogs yawning and wimpering awake..

the path along the water edge is discipline for:
the petite blonde running with her prancing wolf dog,
the huff-puff man in green tee shirt.. jogging by ..
a dignified elder with his hand weights and flicker light..
chatting duos of women friends..
back-pack fella walking heavy ..smiling good-morning..
morning cyclists heading from ballard-
morning cyclists heading to ballard..
their miner's lights heading straight for me!
always the dark shape sleeping under the immense rock display..
shipworkers, construction workers..
gulls, tiny tweets, crows..
maybe salmon in the deep drink...

having stepped into their morning ritual,
i am fed..
the bread..
a year's worth of nourishment..
the bread of life...