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  • © 2013 Sigman Shapiro All Rights Reserved

Thursday

Thursday

I walked out into
clear, morning light,
autumn light,
high-country light,
so stark and clean
it left no room
for what might be,
only for what is,
and had a sudden thought.

We can see a thing
so many times that
when we look at it
we no longer see it.

It is as if
we live in a sleep
so profound that
only the warning call
of death
can wake us
to the minutes wasted
like seeds cast
on barren earth.

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