The day is but newly struck.
Blushing in its naïveté, yet still
A Brave New World.
Most still abed: whether Messiah or monster
(and everybody else in between).
What a difference today could make,
In its increments of pivoting hands.
I take you, day. For richer, for poorer.
In rank sickness or rude health.
In this brief pause before bedlam clamours
I salute you.
© Tom Tide 2016