Creation of a New Day

Day doesn’t always begin at dawn. Sometimes
clocks tick over midnight, a string of zeroes,
and tick on. In the dark and silence, that shift —
the clock counts, the calendar flips, and the light
under the water changes from green to blue
to black, and back through blue to green one more time.
Every day, it is one more time. Just one more.
Sometimes day is dark. Sometimes day is alarmed.
Some days wait and wait more for their beginning.
Some days wish they’d never been born. And sometimes
day is simply a word, an empty hand, open.


4 responses to “Creation of a New Day

  1. Interesting, I always used to ponder the arbitrary nature of time and dates. You have capture that here (along with the uneven way the time passes depending on whether the day is anticipate or dreaded or simply ignored).

  2. I think I’m getting to where I have a little bit of dread for writing each day’s poem.

  3. That is understandable. This is a huge underataking (a poem a day). It has to be taking its toll on you. Yet you pieces continue to be interesting and fresh. Well done.

  4. Fingers crossed! The support is appreciated.

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