In some ways, my day does not start until I open the curtains.

Before my first sip of coffee, I head straight to the front window. I inch sideways behind my couch to grip the bottom of each of the three panels to slide up the blinds. Across the room, curtains cover sliding patio doors, and I shove them aside.

Curtains and blinds need to be opened as soon as possible. It feels like the start of something significant. I would compare it to the start of a movie with the music heralding and the lion roaring. Or that feeling when a theater darkens, the audience grows still, and the huge curtains slide away.

Revealing a new day simply feels good – that moment, that pause and belief that something special is about to begin. For me, this is often a morning ritual. There are seldom surprises, yet there’s comfort in that. There’s nothing damaged. All is as it should be. I enjoy that connection to my little piece of the world, from the inside out.

There’s a bedroom at the other end of the house that’s used when the sons visit. We call it Nana’s room. It belonged to my wife’s mom when she lived with us, helping us raise our sons and more. The room is often dark during the day. I find myself going in to open the blinds. The sun bursts in and adds the kind of warmth that comes from memories. I feel like I am putting Nana back in the room as best I can.

I had not thought much about my ritual of opening up the house. I’ve been pouring out these feelings now, thanks to a simple poem I came across today.

This poem made me think about why I pause when I suddenly have my first look at a new day outside, as if I might see something different. Why I seldom walk by any window without glancing outside for change – or the need for familiarity, sameness.

In some ways, this poem is a window, giving me a clear view of how to look at life each day. Now let me share the poem “Yes” by William Stafford (1914-1993) from “The Way It Is: New & Selected Poems,” published by Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

YES

It could happen any time, tornado,

earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.

Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could, you know. That’s why we wake

and look out – no guarantees

in this life.

But some bonuses, like morning,

like right now, like noon,

like evening.

Like Stafford wrote so simply and true ... there are no guarantees any of it will be there. We live with that every day, helped by the bonuses Stafford only begins to list. Things that make it all worthwhile. Like the morning itself and the perpetual clock that allows moments that count ... like right now.

And poems that remind us to pay attention to what is outside. And inside ... each of us. Things we should say “yes” to.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail the NewsTribune, 426 Second St., La Salle, IL 61301.