Gliding Past the Rising Sun

rerun from a year ago

Adrift, the clouds communicate their love
Of movement, gliding past the rising sun
That they can see but I cannot, the waves
Of light that indicate the starting gun
Of day is firing on the eastern horizon,
And nothing I can do will change the knaves
And jerks and brilliant people I will meet
When, running out, I pass them on the street.

So, this is how I find my way to love,
To pause and see them caught in their own lives
Like busy bees scrambling from their hives,
Or dogs with thoughts of chasing down a scent,
Until they, too, arrive at something sweet
And learn to drift to where the sunrise went.

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Photo and Video by Jonathan Potter ⓒ 2024

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