November

For today’s prompt, write a new day poem. Often, I think of a new day meaning a positive move in a new direction. However, it could be the opposite. Or it could be free of positive or negative connotations; instead, just being different. Or a new day that’s completely the same, I suppose. Looking forward to where everyone takes their new days.



New Day





Sweep the wave from your dreamscape.
Sweep it away with the loose rock in your dream,
with the flailing hand in your dream.

You didn't drown in paradise after all
(even though, then, it was going to be okay
: you responded to the question, What can we do?: with 
We're going to die now.)

You were not alone.
And the wave came.
How could it not?

Sweep away your practice acceptance
of oblivion

with the truth tone of the clock
with the truth of the hush of car wheels slipping past
them, them, unknown, oblvious, living, also
like they do
like you do

your little aches and loves
your age
your habits
how you fling back this warm stack of covers
in one go
and the new day
slaps you with your name and you breathe and say

okay
and

thank you

pools of water shrink to stepping stones 
as you go

the path is a thing 
of magic
even when all the dreamwater
is gone
and your feet, cold, touch the wooden floor alone.

Light floods the room.

It is still something other than you.  Quivering, itself,
because it is November 

now.