The dawn of a new day feels suspended
In time, and glues these eyes like sandpaper
To the light. But my day hasn’t ended.
I grip the grass and wait at the suns leisure.

Breathing deeply I find myself just waiting
In the noon-sun with my skin pink and warm.
All of the weight from before abating
Like with each breath I exhale a small storm.

I want. I wait. I writhe among the weeds.
This morning is mine to use as I please.