The morning begins like any other.
Threads of steam rising from your coffee in the early light,
The dishes from last night stacked neatly in the drain.
Your thoughts still open and unharnessed
Before the day assembles to drive them forward.
The moment before it falls
Hangs still and quiet.
In the golden hour,
The shutter of your mind clicks
Documenting the moment of
Calmness and familiarity
Before everything changes.
The smash comes, thunderous
Tinkles of glass dancing across the floor
Liquid slopping onto all surfaces.
In the absence of breath, heartbeat and thought
In that brief unbelievable second.
Bending to examine the mess
Someone quite new
Picks pieces out carefully
Trying not to cut
A young and tenuous cord.
Drawing a bucket of hot soapy water
You squeeze the rag of suds
And carefully wipe the face
Emerging through the shine of the wood floor.
Flecks of glass float to the bottom of the bucket.
In the amber light of morning,
Pieces slip silently together
Confidently finding their new place.