The spinning earth smeared cool pastels
On the blank canvas of a new day.
It wasn't the way we were meant to see it,
Like how your parents wrapped your gifts
And Santa left the cookies and milk
When mommy was on a diet.
Now cotton spilled onto the page
Cleaning up its own mess
While the rest burned under the work light.
No, no, this was the quiet shift into grace,
Pulling the blinds to put sleep in its place.