It really is a matter of perspective.
The morning air is still dim and cool
the birds I can hear
almost seem to be whispering about something
that has yet to happen, and if it does
they will sing and shout and rave.

The rest of the world is quiet.
Even now, I can't hear anything moving
on the highway.

Taking a mental inventory reveals
that everything is at ease
all the parts in working order
and my heart is calm.

Not empty. Calm.
And if I think of it just so
it stops being a battered tin cup
and becomes something unusual.

If I think of it just so
my heart becomes a shining silver chalice
no longer tarnished
but polished and cared for
and ready to be fulled.

Not empty. Calm. Ready to be filled.
Not with the old wine this time,
but the new wine of new love
that has to be discovered slowly
and aged over time with tenderness
and trust and understanding;
something I have never really tasted.

How wonderful to sit here
on the silent steps and listen
to the slowly waking world
and realize the time has come round at last.

Not empty. Calm. Ready to be filled.
Not impatient. Waiting. Expectant.
All that remains to complete this
is the miracle of meeting you.
It really is a matter of perspective.