A NEW DAY
The loss of light comes earlier, that’s when the day ends and the night begins. And then, strangely a new day begins at midnight in the middle of the night when darkness is at its blackest, its most intense and only the night owls are out and about heaving their midnight sighs for the new day to come and the one they’ve lost.
'To sleep perchance to dream'. That’s what he said. Sounds so gentle, but there’s a rub, a rough edge to this sleepy escape that would see me float away sending me spinning, out of control tumbling, raging, spiralling, crashing to an indeterminate end. So perhaps it’s daytime dreaming that has the edge to smoothly move me from one place to another. In wakeful dreams I can determine the beginning, at least, and invite the participants. Sometimes they may act out an old story with a predictable end. Sometimes I can write a new story and then bring it to life.
It’s trill has the effervescence of Bucks Fizz. And not just as a morning wake up call, but an all day long pick me up. And it’s not just for Christmas but available season after season. Such longevity in such a small bird. Such year round year cheer from dawn to dusk.
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Capsule Stories, Gyroscope Review and So It Goes.