A 2 a.m. Toast To Prana
she coos
off to sleep in 
the other room

we’ve loved
& I’ve hugged her
& rose, now

she hums & glows
thru the walls &
recedes into dreams.

the house sits clean
around my kitchen seat—
the day is done, behind me.

on Nana’s maple table
these: a vase of dried weeds,
my teacup, my elbow, a gaze.

unspoken thoughts
are stitched into the grain.
it is me unthreads them

but only just now — 
this is why we need time.
to bask in the prana

when nothing bad presses.
crickets clicking outside
keep steady the pulse of night.

if nirvana’s vast feast
is no richer than this—
I really see

                            no hurry.