Well I got my wish. It’s evening. The day as such is over. I was sitting around this afternoon, bored, wishing the day would end so I could settle into the evening at home, in the dark, with the computer and the TV and the dog. And here it is. Feels like the day lasted maybe three hours, tops.

I remember being warned as a child – by Mom or Grandma, I’m not sure – not to wish my life away, being in a hurry for time to pass and to grow up. None of us has the promise of tomorrow, Grandma used to say. And she was right. But every now and then, I make this same mistake.

Click Permanent Link for the full post, including a poem for today.
I wrote this back in 1997 or 1998…

Hard Night of Poetry

I have mastered the wasting of light.

The day is avocados

sliced

and browning on a plate.

The poor embarrassed moon is tired

of hiding in her flannel clouds.

Her soft October light

has spread itself across my bed.

The stars are ashamed.

The neighbor’s cat avoids

my sinful fence.

I write poems by discretion

of solitude.

The pencil sharpener grinds

like judgment.

Soon the sun will struggle up

diffused through my canopy

of steam. Skateboards will

clatter out

waking the gutters

tossing back the leaves

like tiny silk sheets.