a great force lurches me forward
in time, in my bed, one eye peeled
to gaze through open shutters
while sunrise bleeds itself thin
as orange juice, pinks
and reds pronounced in puffs
of this and that cloud, and in
my tired wake i try to remember
not to forget this sight, this
novelty at the new year's daylight,
what small wonders out weight
or outnumber all my groveling
and gray, so much as a simple gift
from gravity and space can concoct
the nuance needed to believe, again,
that we spin and change and remain,
like magic.
Lovely.
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