Each Day
Each morning it’s the same--
both of us are on watch--
did he or she get up? If yes,
all is good and we proceed,
for life is still our familiar:
we can relax once more
over coffee and puzzles,
wander through the morning
as the sun goes on its climb
until it’s time for lunch,
and when sandwiches end,
as the sun begins to slope
and we are both still here,
we decide what’s for dinner.
Second Prize Award, Pennsylvania Poetry Society, 2o2o
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