It’s early and
Like a child
I wipe away
Sleep finally being
Moored to morning
I realize like
An adventurer that
What I dreamed
Is different from
What I see
In dreams I
Remembered you familiar
But now this
New world is
Absent of you
I must conquer
This new land
Alone and discover
Other potential treasures
Clouds skate by
Like swirls of
Icy snow on
November mornings some
Higher are orange
Like a fruit
Stand but mostly
Gray like Eeyore
The trees have
Pallor a boring
Green like house
Paint the temperature
Is perfect if
You’re like a
Summer Rosa tomato
The mornings sky
Is heavy with
Cream like my
Mother shaved off
Milk and added
Strawberries for breakfast
Thick with dollops
Of clouds the
Blueest of blueberries
Begins to peak
Through as they
Did when I
Was a child
Not knowing my
Mother buried them
A sweet surprise
The mornings clouds
Are like a
Freshly steamed bathroom
Hiding everything including
Planes and sun
The clouds hang
Like freshly stored
Winter coats in
A cedar closet
Waiting for next
Year or Saul’s
Heat on this
Late June morning
I’m something to
Many and nothing
To the others
Like coal can
Also be a
Diamond but likely
It’s just coal
To be used
Burnt and forgotten
Rather than kept
And finally revered
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 