The day will bring some lovely thing.

I say it over each new dawn.

Some adventurous thing to hold

against my heart,

when it is cold

and to rise to meet

the new day

with wings upon my feet.


I come upon it unaware.

Some sudden beauty without a name,

a clip of a song,

a breath of pine,

a smile lit with golden flare.


High, harmonious notes,

floating through the wind,

like flying colors

at sunset.


No day has ever failed me

quite before the grayest day

is done.


The new day

is here

as I come upon a misty morning

on the lake

lit with crimson streaks.


Soon dusk arrives

and each new night

I pause

remembering

the day

for what it was.


And rest,

anticipating

what the new day

will hold.