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.