Poetry/Prose

Lunchtime

Is there anything quite so intelligent as the dawn?

Pastel hues step aside and bow

The earth, about face

Witness

A star is born

Into a holy free zone

Not war

Nor technology

Nor dictator

Nor saint

Nor god

Nor fantasy

Can stop it

Yesterday’s worries cower

In west-side shadows

It could be a fresh start

But for the rising

Pulling us up

Slipping our grip on sacred time

The orb moves higher, relentlessly

Horizon lost to its spectacle and blare

Any other day touches our shoulders

Whispers

“Like yesterday”

“Like tomorrow, will be”

And, indeed, yesterday returns

Just as tomorrow fades away

Just as the shadows disappear

Lunchtime

Standard

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