Another Day

on this bright, azure-adorned morning,
only a few gulls cry -- most are sleeping;
and even though it is only 29 degrees,
The Mighty One causes drips to fall
from the ice-encrusted roof that I am under.
on this morning, like so many others,
it creates diamonds on the harbor floor,
but mostly it creates a throbbing, golden orb
that the waves, as they move, give life to.
the melting ice reminds me that time passes
more quickly, and makes me wish that
I had more.
the diamonds have lost some of their luster,
and there are less of them;
but polishing and counting
are for another day.



January 4, 2009, for She Who Cannot Be Named.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.