Sun slices through slumber –
Day, wrapped in cerulean, beckons.
Not an early riser, I balk, until
sensibility intrudes, argues
autumn’s passing –
I concede, break out,
push limitations –
a sexagenarian rebel.
Later, I crash,
golden lustre
enveloping me –
halo-like.
(Kim is hosting at dVerse pub tonight and challenging us to write a quadrille – poem in 44 words – using the word early. I am also linking up with Ragtag Community for their prompt: lustre. More photos and information about this outing are posted here.)
One Woman's Quest 