Playing The Day

The sun
rolls into the waiting sky
as the earth tilts towards it.

Cleaning teeth, eating porridge,
feeding cats,
are prosaic ways to welcome it.

Sitting at the end of dawn,
at the edge of the garden,
is more fitting.

Birds sing in attendance,
the air quickens like an ocean
ready to move.

Cooking, shopping,
cleaning
will come later.

For now I sit at its side
matching my strength to its pull,
playing the day
through shoals of unmarked time.