William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Sunrise, Sunset

Call me old-fashioned, but when it comes to clocks, I far prefer the sun.

It’s faithful and reliable, but not insistent.

It acts one way in the forest, another in the desert, or on the valley floor.

North, south — who could ask for more?

Early? Late? For heaven’s sake — what is living for?


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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet

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2 replies

  1. The day, the sun.
    The night, the moon.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Their breath, their song, their tune.

    Liked by 1 person