one minute past midnight
I wish tomorrow arrives without fanfare
lazy saturday morning
nondescript and unpretentious like
orange slices and strawberry fields
magic clock on wall running backwards
chasing white mice without purpose
having nothing better to do
than nibble on yellow eye of the sun
how many mornings have I awakened
to the silent strike of dawn
cricket wings translucent and exhausted
surrendering to avian multiverses
september two thousand eighteen
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