Book title

Somehow I know I have a book to write.  Like most things in my life, it is coming in dribs and drabs.  A jigsaw puzzle of perceptions.  Maybe a mosaic of perceptions.  Right now I have the title.

I awoke a month ago

With a book title.

I do not know

The exact content

Of the book.

Some mornings

I secretly hope

Someone else will write it

Whatever it is.

Some mornings

The book title sits with me

At breakfast

Over oatmeal and coffee.

Some mornings

It pirouettes

On the back lawn,

Scares away the squirrels and grackles.

Some afternoons it joins me

In the office

Under the altar,

Sits under the office window,

As I sit with clients.

Some mornings

I secretly hope

Someone else will write it

Whatever it is.

This is one of those mornings.