Monday Poem


in shifts from bright to dim
there is no edge, no interim,
as also none exists from wide to slim Morning cliuds over Hagers
the sun comes up in orange blaze
night evaporates in such displays
lines are indiscernible in nights to days
when life from bud to apple goes
and succulence and color grows
earth is smoothly changing pose
breath segues in respiration
in which we find no separations
as intervals might mean cessation
birth moves on to what comes next
years tick off from more to less,
what follows then we have to guess

Jim Culleny