let each gift take hold

Stop moving so fast, racing past street signs
like a runaway. Don't abandon your luggage
at the nearest depot. Unclench from the desire
to diminish, then disappear.

Come inside. Take off your shoes. Stay for dinner.
Here is a cup of tea, an oatmeal cookie, a novel.
Here is a fireplace, a pair of slippers, bed.
Here is the moon, and above that, the heavens.
Here is a good dream you might wake up from.
Here is everything you see, and everything you
can't quite. Now lift your head up,
with your hands if you have to,
and let each gift, singly and in its own time,
take hold.