You tell me to live each day
as if it were my last. This is in the kitchen
where before coffee I complain
of the day ahead—that obstacle race
of minutes and hours,
grocery stores and doctors.
But why the last? I ask. Why not
live each day as if it were the first—
all raw astonishment, Eve rubbing
her eyes awake that first morning,
the sun coming up
like an ingénue in the east?
You grind the coffee
with the small roar of a mind
trying to clear itself. I set
the table, glance out the window
where dew has baptized every
~Linda Pastan “Imaginary Conversation”
To live each day like the first day, rather than the last…
It would mean unbridled awe and astonishment, as it should be.
Not only gratitude that the world exists, but grateful that I exist.
Newly created and baptized by amazement each day,
just like my first day.
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