sometimes I wake-up
at odd hours, disarmed
by the alarm of a spy toy
or the tick of battery
operated clocks
and question the light
in my mind
as long as it took
to learn how to breathe
from the first
desperate squawk
to the deliberate
inhale of Tai Chi
there was always
that same light
and now, with my bra
coming out of my sleeve
slight-of-hand modesty
in an ocean of new passion
breath seems easy
I exhale
relish the fall
