poke at its shadows and call it a day.
Call the white mice who run on the wavecaps
keepers of spraypaint for coloring hay.
See the great rock that looms in the desert;
call it a mushroom and measure its dew.
Swim through pine trees and call them bananas,
pulling the cinnamon needles to you.
Take one old sun that circles a maple;
call it a magnet for turtles who fly.
Meet the high storm of crystallized eggshell;
brush at its whiskers and call it goodbye.
Ah, and finally the last Poem A Day poem!