CALL ME BELOVED

There’s no fairness in waking life
when the morning air is cold
and outside, rivers of melt water
run gleaming down drive ways
like glaciers bleeding out.
Last night, you flew –
you were dreaming, but
it was flying, nonetheless.
Step onto the cold floor
and tie your shoes.
It is unfair (last night, you flew)
but still, walk – open the door,
step out into dusk.

2015 Poem-A-Week 10: March 5 – March 11