On Being Pretty Brave
I open my eyes
And recall the twenty or so times
I threw off the covers last night.
I roll on to my left side
And blink away the blur of night.
I sigh to replace a wish for more sleep.
I list in my head all the good things I can think of,
And my chest tightens when
I give thanks even for the hardest thing.
I push off the covers,
And I grab for my shawl, pushing my feet into my slippers.
I go downstairs, craving my hot cup of morning tea.
I draw in deep breath and begin again.
And I find my way to a new day, just like I did yesterday.
I think that’s pretty brave.