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,
from within.

She

seeks and finds
women born.

Her

moments pass:
this is that.

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