The Day as Sea

Slipping the ropes of sleep

Which had held him through the night,

He faced his day with prow proud, strong.

Moving from the dock of rest and dream

He eddied out into his day—

     Fronting, slicing the first waves

Of wakefulness with quiet freshness.

As he left the quai

He looked back at the shore and dock of sleep, and

Tried to piece together

All that had transpired in his rich dreams.

--March 1, 2013