a good day
Meah Enya Brooks
It was a day when rain felt
like a second morning shower,
and the bitter cold
was welcomed by a half-moon smile
and a bobble hat.
It was a day when nothing really
mattered, or nothing seemed to anyhow,
nothing at all, except maybe
the proximity of uncertainty;
the proximity of realizing
it may not stay like this for much longer.
Nothing can be assured
bit by bit.
However, it continued to be
a day when it felt acceptable
to peer your head out of your familiar shell,
just enough to absorb the world
without feeling under threat by it.
It was a day when
your personality wasn’t muffled
by irrational apprehensions and fears.
It was a good day,
and it blurred into another
as days often do.