Morning observations rarely register
as we wake and wander our way
through infant hours.
It takes a moment for
the mind to come alive while
the gravity of the day settles in.
We fail to notice little things,
considerably more substantial days ago,
perhaps once meaningful or spiritual,
now displaced as the second hand
of the wristwatch sweeps onward.
Afford yourself opportunity
to be distracted by butterflies, soon
a scent of lilacs, freesia, even the taste of
spring rain or requisite morning coffee.
In days so rent with common
occurrences, look beyond
what is there.
04/02/2024 j.g.l.
sense of soon
Any day now the leaves will return, colour
bound to fill our lives, relieve our eyes of
all we have been forced to take in as winter
has, and does, dull our vistas.
The ugliness of it all, or most of it, may seem
less degrading. Spring anon, warmth of the sun
and seasonal refrain, time and again, our lives
may appear more normal.
As it should be, any day now, overly familiar
bleak terrains that encompass our soul will
speak differently in the sense of soon and
silence of transformation.
04/19/2024 j.g.l.