Counting Dawns

If eyes open too soon then a few mornings go missing, but they are catching up they will fly in backwards tumbling out of windswept decades. Eyes that open too late have to wait, have to stare at a future blankness while ears gatecrash the present. Will the thrown newspaper land on the lower or upper step? It matters, a quantifying arithmetic is essential to determine next steps. The percolator has mixed together a thousand morning. Dawn gathers enough gravity to sink easily into an evening sunset. We find ourselves on the verge of all previous verges, swinging one delving leg to touch a floor that rises up to meet us. and its normal - too normal.