The First Passing

Each flicker of the candle,

Every tick of the clock,

the day gets a little brighter

The breeze is chilled and slow

Like a good glass of whiskey

Soft are the linens in which we wrap our bodies in

And the coffee is hot

The room is quiet and empty

But it’s filled with aromatics

Hints of pecan and butter,

In these moments, time stops, and I am grateful for that

The concrete is frigid and has been plastered with purple and gold,

detained by the rain from the fresh hours of the day

You can savor the sweet smell of the damp earth

It teasing you with every waft

Morning crows have replaced the restless rooster while the dawn is muted and somber

Each sensation is long and awaited

Some things will succumb and return to the warm embrace of spring

But for now, we enjoy the first passing