…it is not another grey morning, I promise you…


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To want to taste…is to reach for a sensation, to furtively search, late at night, or maybe in the morning….shadow bugs moving on walls as light comes in announcing all you’ll really be able to have is an expectation that things are changing…

The morning is grey not because of a depression or a lack of moral fiber, but as an admission that any mist must make to the rising of a spectacular sun, that it is and always will be submissive to heat, to evaporation, to particulation, to dispersal…

And though a dispersed mist may become rebellious enough to regather itself into a wind, and rain for forty days and forty nights – the sun knows, as does any idea whose time has come, that passion trumps subjugation, and makes any day new again….

(Another 10 Minute Poem)

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One response to “…it is not another grey morning, I promise you…

  1. Enjoying these poems while sipping hot chocolate. I enjoy the trips your words take me on. Keep writing.

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