Madrugada
Swimming up to awake I knowI must not move one iota.
After seven years it is in my nature.
Not one eyelid or lash decrees
My awake state until I detect by
Miniscule degrees of surreptitious
Peeping I am safe to breathe in in
Preparation of the onslaught to come.
Madrugada moments tick by.
I decide to flick a finger or sigh and
Fail to shudder with grins.
The onslaught begins.
Yet some madrugadas show me how
Moments sometimes have merit.
The half light at times makes
Me clumsy with my language...
So I purrr at the thing and take
To the wing and butterfly stroke away
Like a heretic into the wrong bidden breeze.
Standing at a window not moving
One iota I expect the rest of the day
To become a moveable feast...
What dawns will always spur us to
Somehow marginally dust off
The unmoving madrugada.
And the agenda.
Poetry by jenks
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Written on 2012-02-07 at 02:33
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