Morning cliuds over Hagers

in shifts from bright to dim
there is no edge, no interim,
as also none exists from wide to slim

the sun comes up in orange blaze
night evaporates in such displays
lines are indiscernable in nights to days

when life from bud to apple goes
and succulence and color grows
earth is smoothly changing pose

breaths segue in respiration
in which we find no separation
as intervals might mean cessation

birth moves on to what comes next
years tick off from more to less,
what follows then we have to guess

Jim Culleny