Being Yin

I sense the unceasing silence of the night
a damper around my head.



This whirling winding wonder

not surrendered
but overcome
Even his sleep seems alive
No yin to his yang


I bend over him

   Siberian tiger stares back at me

   (cheetah, rabbit, snake, spider, otter...)

My old bones are already aching
I hover pure love

his unimaginably beautiful face
his fleshy hands, bitten down nails
his hair askew

His.
I am the temporary Guardian

He sits up and his eyes are seeing another world.
He looks around - at me past me.
He turns again
his eyes stop

"Mom"

"hmmm?" I hum.

Then his eyes turn gentle: yin

He lays back down
into a soft cloud of tranquility
or so it seems to me
or I hope.

Then I hear the cheep-cheep chirping of the night.