“Come Here,” says the Morning
Radiance Angelina Petro
“Come here,” says the morning,
“there are things to do that don’t involve a bed.”
“Open me,” says the door, “the day invites you out.”
“Over there,” the tree points, “walk beside that creek.”
“Don’t worry,” says the dragonfly, “I am with you all the way.”
“See that?” asks the beam of sun spotlighting
a particular rock sitting half out of the water.
“Hear that?” asks the air.
“Watch this,” says the mallard, ducking its head under,
then coming up shaking bits of light from its iridescent, green collar.
“Try this,” says the heron, standing on one leg and staring faraway.
“Guess what I’m looking at.”
“Feel that?” asks the moment, “I am everything you could have asked for,
and it is OK to ask for more.”
“Think of it,” says the mind, “the world is thinking of you.”
“Imagine,” says the soul, “your body is just as much me,
as I am you. Try dancing. Try singing. Try remembering the future you want.
“Go ahead, let it in. The day is in love with you.”