Unfolding, My Day... Poem by RIC BASTASA

that morning
the birds chirp
and the leaves of
trees whisper
the dog still sleep
the rose still a bud
the fog creeps slowly
away from the street
in this mountain
far away from the city
you may think at first
that someone is in sorrow
unaccustomed to this
silence
that grows like a dough
from the bread that
you are making
as the fire in the kitchen
warms the room
the gloom starts to wither
as the bud starts to flower
as the sun gently comes out
from the horizon
and then everything changes
to a day unfolding....