An Ordinary Morning


The sun, gold like

Liquidized stones, almost

Called lava, found its way

Between the leaves

Of maples just finished

Bleeding sugar freely;

It was a beautiful morning.


Mornings are like that

On days when eternal

Syllables work their way

From the scriptures through

Modern contingencies

Forming a day while killing the night.


Just an ordinary sunrise

without bravado, predictably

Boring in ecstatic magnificence

As you feel like stretching to

The sky to put your blanket

Over the sun.