Her Days Move

New

daylight calls,
rouses her.

She

puts on clothes,
eats her toast.

She

spills water,
wipes counters.

She

sips coffee,
skims the news.

She

hears birdsong,
feels a breeze.

She

works alone,
emails friends.

She

opens files,
writes new words.

She

fills spaces,
compiles time.

She

adds meaning,
subtracts guilt.

She

refracts light,
breaks darkness.

She

seeks and finds:
women born.

Her

moments pass:
this is that.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

spb | 25 apr

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