Poetry Friday--"Days"

On a January Friday, I thought "Days" would be particularly appropriate.

Days
by Billy Collins

Each one is a gift, no doubt,
mysteriously placed in your waking hand
or set upon your forehead
moments before you open your eyes.

Today begins cold and bright,
the ground heavy with snow
and the thick masonry of ice,
the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds.

Through the calm eye of the window
everything is in its place
but so precariously
this day might be resting somehow

on the one before it,
all the days of the past stacked high
like the impossible tower of dishes
entertainers used to build on stage.

No wonder you find yourself
perched on the top of a tall ladder
hoping to add one more.
Just another Wednesday

you whisper,
then holding your breath,
place this cup on yesterday's saucer
without the slightest clink.

From The Art of Drowning.

It's always good, when you're balancing on a ladder, to have someone standing below to catch you!

Rung Out

Teetering
on
tippy-toe
holding
on
with
one hand
                        s t r e t c h    i    n    g
I
reach
the
fixture.

Got it!

I come down
gingerly placing
a spent bulb
in your open palm
while your other
hand, at last,
lets go.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

Tabatha Yeatts: The Opposite of Indifference is where you'll find the Poetry Friday Round-Up for this week.

--Diane

Photo by elycefeliz.