Spirals, Sparrows and Crossed Paths

If I repeat myself
it is so;
I know where I go.
I am no lost sparrow
tumbling alone.
I am like most of the rest,
seeking some safer nest.

I am in tune
with pantry and bookshelves
with setting suns and rising moons,
the bubbly breath of whales
and the silver path of snails.

I watch surrounded by the repetition of love and fear
and recognize the markings of less and care.
If I repeat myself like morning rain,
I've been there,
maybe more than once and maybe soon again.