Saturday. ..

sinking into sentience,

shrinking regret
and petty penitence,

to let heart flower
in its way. . .

one’s deep importance,

as, almost imperceptibly
the August day
before us
glib and glorious
dawns, waxes, wanes
and shortens,

our next expected morn
that’s to come and show us
the wild-bright
and roundest moon
right in our true sight’s way.

This entry was posted in Autumn, Days of the Week, Poetry, Quick reads, Seasons, Summer and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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