friday

the sky is closed today
as seagulls circle
and the kids lay in the snow

the other day
the subway sang
as a small man
blind played
the truest music

the roof of heaven opened
before the cluttering of the world began
and the voice and tiny instrument
mingled with the beat of my heart

today is friday
sleepy friday
working amongst books and paper
cash and customers
sasha to keep company with

and the sky is blue
as the clouds peel away
the kettle clicks to say it is ready

and thoughts of cups of tea brew
and possibility
and the breakfast of champions
and the breakfast of film makers
and movie stars

and the stew of grey that lives on the walk
where once in the nights sky it was fresh and snow

and i am achy with december
and happy with it too.