I wish morning
would always be
like this,
I would not forget
to notice.
Besides it is sufficiently
This fresh breeze
a bit too windy,
so that dust and mites
and things I don’t (even)
want to know about
fly in the air.
The windows are
dirty and there are
plenty of other
nagging details
to deal with.
My life is filled
with imperfection,
couldn’t I just
keep this nearly
perfect day,
bamboo chimes
small planes,
excited birds.
All the chimes
are chiming,
in fact,
and the temperature
must be seventy.
The last hot pink
cyclamen bloom
hangs on.
I can see it through
the open door.

All the things
that needed to be done
need to be done.
If I could just
hold on
to this morning
I think, at last,
I could do them.