In this new day I open my curtains.
Open the holy books for new words.
See the new bird upon the bare branch,
the new camellia bud opened.
My reflection in the window glass is new
as the day begun.
My thoughts new, my hopes
like pressing bulbs finding fresh soil.
My heart is a new beast.
In that it’s thumping, it’s swelling,
is a moving thing,
as new life in the womb.
My mind,
a new participant
in the race that has my legs
tingling with fresh anticipation.
Today my breath
is an open shell
in which the sounds of the sea
bring new momentum.
Did the end come over night?
Or is it just that newness is our namesake.
The sun is there somewhere
behind the clouds,
I know this because of an awareness
that does not leave us in the waking.
How we are new opportunists,
with yesterday’s lessons imprinted—
visionary beacons of hope.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2023
Living Tree Poetry 