In the silent space where old meets new,
the birthlight of the infant dawn
crawling in through the gap
between shade and sill,
chasing the small boat
that has come adrift from its moorings.
Sliding back down between slumber’s sheets
it slips further from my grasp,
bobbing above my head
on the surface of awake.
Hours later I rise
to find that it has already sailed
on the morning tide.