Is it true that time changes?
Not here, but there, not past that imaginary line
but an inch before it.
Waking today brought an altered number
on a clock
yet Sun didn’t hiccup or falter.
Who are we to roll such dice?
Upon opening my eyes today
I’m living out a past pain through new labor.
Which is true–
the old pain, the fresh effort?
November 3 offers lost agonies returned,
a dawning, growing prayer
and broadening recognition of space
expanding into the Grandmotherly arms
of a beckoning,
and rollicking humor.