Rite
Smooth the day,
seize that curled and tousled head
grease its creased and mottled entrance
come all wailing to a waiting world,
slide from the arms of midwife night
attempt to keep the light
as round and full as well remembered,
bend each hunkered cornered shadow
pull it hook and line
pierce the fish flesh bone
stretched and knotted twine about your fingers
skewer any little patch of dark that lingers on
heavy in that morning scented room,
fling the curtained windows wide
cast that latch aside and breathe,
fill your foggy winter lungs with spring
embrace the gasp and grab yourself
a newly minted season
bursting fresh with sweet unsullied air
this is not a moment,
it’s a revelation
just for you
and one you might not want to share
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