More than this

The morning’s crisp shadows
and the infinite void
as the sun exposes the cracks.

The stretching willow wisps
kissed by the breeze
still heavy with night.

Conversations and courtesies
between alarm clocks
and vociferous sparrows.

The churning of fisherman
and throaty foghorns
in the rising bay.

The grinding of wheels
along steel snake skins
into the weekday.

The smiles on faces
half awake and half frozen
in the memories of dreams.

Would that I could bottle
all this in my lunchbox
for a midday fix.



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