Like Opening

Like Opening

(“If My covenant with day and my covenant with night ever fell apart so that day and night became haphazard…then and only then would my covenant with my servant David fall apart.” Jeremiah 33:20, 21 [The Message])

Opening the morning, like opening a door,
closing the windows, the night falls like each night before;
sleep invites safety,
morning circles rainy or daisy but always arrives
just outside the open door.

Whether we spin or careen, cast our nets or line,
wander wet alone or dry our wit with friends,
undertone or cyclone, Friday or February,
Sunday or moon-defined; we rarely sweat a bead of time
over which side of the bed the sun might rise again.

Though it captured every homestead, outlined shadows,
alley or farm, I like the way it shone on your day some times
more than my own.

While I toiled unnoticed, just across town, quartets and
folk bands sang songs I hoped to write, but I had promised
the seven or eight my full year, no less…too late to join
the train regrouped the same day I signed up for the little work
just across town.

Opening the window, like opening the day,
the nights fall like each night present, each night passed,
each promise given, each role cast.
Find me cautious, see me serene, sun lights not-quites
the same as what might have been.