Tom Snyder: Collected Poems

Morning: A Benediction

In my solemn bathrobe in no hurry,
after coffee and the mandatory fanfare
of birdsongs at 5 a.m.

I somehow remove my head.

This is brighter! Light blossoms the room.
My head was the last thing needed…
I hold it in my lap like an infant
and watch the eyelids fall.
I stroke the cap of hair.

Something gentle returns.
The universe is tender.

I forgive you head, I forgive you.