Too Late Too Early

A dark daybreak lingers Then makes its home behind averted eyes Yesterday for long hours Crows cawed in the tree tops This morning Light follows twilight As if it were a waif from a Victorian novel Too much coffee keeps me busy Escaping into the past Decades are all one yesterday Events whittled down and reprised By ice-picking hours The presence Of a future self Grows narrow and pale I go back to fishing For a sign or prediction Try to imagine Something emblematic See only the bone-chilled residue Of late arrivals