-- A Perfect Kind of Day --
John Herlihy
Glorious sunlight that casts a magic spell,
The church steeple sounding clear as a bell.
A hand-painted sky that was never so blue,
A gentle breeze through the meadow blew.
All those birds, whatever gives them the right,
To so freely flit about, in and out of our sight.
Stars disappeared, but their memory lingers,
Those billions of galaxies I count on my fingers.
The waning crescent moon still has time to set,
Dying there in the daylight make me feel regret.
I wake up into the blessing of another fine day,
I stand upon the ground with my feet of clay.
My shoes on the ground the perfect color of brown,
Waiting to serve me with such a smile, not a frown.
A half-written poem waiting patiently to be finished,
A closed book waiting to be opened, still unfinished.
Breakfast smells reach me of coffee and burned toast,
Wonder what the day will bring, this uncertain ghost.
How comforting to awaken to things known,
More comforting to awaken to things unknown.
The puff clouds seem to know where they are going,
Moving as mountains as if heavy baggage towing.
The light streams through the clouds promising rain,
Whether rain or shine, I will leave it to God to ordain.
I begin my day on my knees in prayerful salutation,
The day itself waits to unfold as though on probation.
No one knows for sure how the day will turn out to be,
We need to meet the moment, to patiently wait and see.
An imperfect being blessed with the perfect kind of day,
To arise, to live and let live, to go on my merry way.
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Copyright © John Herlihy
Wednesday 5 May 2021