Most Days I’m Curious

by Megan Peak, on curiosity

Most days I’m curious, or rather,
I’m drawn to the world—absorbed, even,
by how it begins, rising from
the other side of my dark body,
padding into the room, the hours early
and new. What I mean is, I’m invested
in its arrival, how light filters softly
through. I still swoon at it all—the
spinning rivers, cobbled mountains,
plain grass, and dew. And of course,
where would I be without the moon,
its white-bellied pull, maker and muse?
I no longer pray, but I kneel in the glow
and ask: are you astonished by all this
warmth? When it’s all over, will you leave
empty or full?