|Jan/Feb 2002 • Poetry|
The Day Measures Us
There are days where the sun hides
And follows itself out of sheer purpose.
We know its path, its warm bead
Across the sky. Today is that day.
We can't believe how lucky we are
And we follow ourselves through our days.
I want to tell you how much I love you
And how this gray afternoon is bright with hope.
Some days I am empty. Today the angles
Cannot meet. All these clouds demand
I shut my eyes and that I go forward,
Forward into the night where I hold you
Against the years before I had nothing.