Still November

Sunrise sears the back of my neck before I'm ready for it.

The floors hold last night's dust like they're not ashamed.

Flour smell climbing through the boards again.

I didn't sleep enough to deserve this light.

The candle has been burning since before the clocks changed and I haven't touched it.

One hour gained, one hour I don't know what to do with.

The birds don't know about daylight saving.

They started when it was still dark and they haven't stopped.

The coffee is the right temperature for exactly four minutes and I made it count.

My order at the diner hasn't changed in three years.

That's not sadness, that's just the shape my life has taken.

The city is already in it, already asking something.

I stand here anyway.

Not because I'm ready.

Because the light keeps making its case and I keep losing.

--Vera