Edge of noon

Midday shadows are stoic.

I am full but still nibbling. 

.

Opening the book of poems, 

excited yet a little afraid 

as every day shows me answers 

to questions I didn’t know I had. 

.

I’d simplify if I wasn’t so scared.

Always teetering on the edge of reason. 

.

There is a phrase… and then another,

speaking to my misery and my hope

both alight and reaching beyond 

rhyme or midday shadows.