Tag Archives: daybreak



It’s a classic beginning for another day.
I push the covers out of the way,
fumble to find my glasses and shoes,
open the curtains to drown out the blues.

I am a champion at choosing a mood.
I refuse to be grumpy. Choose not to brood.
I put on my attitude before my clothes,
donning my blessings instead of my woes.



Today’s word prompt are the blues, classic, fumble and champion.

The Day Cracked Open Like an Egg

The Day Cracked Open Like an Egg

The rain falls
fresh as cucumbers
on cobblestones and tiles,
the dust of summer
washed from crevasses
and curves of stone and clay.

The air is cleansed
of the scent of primavera,
and flamboyan trees
and the whole world
breathes easily again.

Clouds dried up
by sunlight,
the silent birds
are flushed
from their covering leaves
and open in chorus

to the booming crack
of cohetes, splitting the air
in celebration
of Saint John the Baptist
who has baptized all
this day.


Primavera and jacaranda are the names of colorful flowering Mexican trees. Flamboyan is the Spanish name for a royal poinciana tree.  Cohetes are very noisy aerial fireworks of the caliber of cherry bombs. This is a rewrite of a poem written two and a half years ago. The prompt today is egg.