All morning—because the mornings had been slipping
into afternoons with unnatural speed, leaving little to savor—
he promised himself he’d wake before even the hint of light.
When the sun rose, he’d say Dawn. And he’d name the first cloud
First Cloud, and this was how he’d try to begin it all again,
one ordinary event at a time, properly named. He’d prolong
breakfast with long pauses between bites and sips. He’d make calls
to friends who had drifted backwards into acquaintanceship.