A late wake . . . why not, on
this day we move time forward
not by a week which might be
helpful but by an hour that
makes little difference except to
shorten one’s day, ironically
Still, what joy, to be alive
this day, with sense to value the
absence of effort outside the home
for its meaning—opportunity
to build within that abode . . .
Time we shouldn’t forget
Ever home, the part of me you became
We came to be as one unto a time
Beyond our leave. When it happened, we
Realized at once our team had now become
One to count on, hours of days to years away
Every day, recognition our token
Round-trip ticket in-pocket, pointing us
Northward when blinded, all else forgotten
H O M E
Life's Poetic Essence 