The Life of a Day
Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own
personality quirks, which can easily be seen if you look closely.
But there are so few days as compared to people, not to
mention dogs, that it would be surprising if a day were
not a hundred times more interesting than most people.
Usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unless they are
wildly nice, such as autumn ones full of red maple trees and
hazy sunlight, or if they are grimly awful ones in a winter
blizzard that kills the lost traveler and bunches of cattle.
For some reason we want to see days pass, even though most
of us claim we don't want to reach our last one for a long time.
We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say,
no, this isn't one I've been looking for, and wait in a bored
sort of way for the next, when, we are convinced, our lives
will start for real. Meanwhile, this day is going by perfectly
well adjusted, as some days are, with the right amounts of
sunlight and shade, and a light breeze perfumed from the
mixture of fallen apples, corn stubble, dry oak leaves, and the
faint odor of last night's meandering skunk.
"The Life of a Day" by Tom Hennen, from Darkness Sticks to Everything: Collected and New Poems (2013), is used by permission of Copper Canyon Press.