Rik George writes

Day Breaks

A distant cow calls for a bull.
The day breaks gray over the grove.
Taped boxes wait along the wall.

I drink my tea and clean the cup.

My life is almost ready to move.

I close the last box, wrap it with tape,

and stack it with the rest. I check

for things I've overlooked. Just day

and dust in the corners, not one scrap

of us, just me in the waiting stack.

The climbing sun brightens the sky.

I hear the movers park the van

on the drive. I push my past away,

open the door, and let them in.