Each Minute, Each Year

After the thickness of night, a salty morning
moistened by invisible strands of Gulf Stream

that I imagine are yellow like saffron melting
into another day and another day. I watch

two women stroll down the sidewalk, arms 
swinging like pulleys back to home and family, 

drivers zip by in a kaleidoscope of 
madness and metal, on errands to fill up 

their days. While overhead seagulls laugh 
and linger and I linger, too, waiting for you 

to come back, for our normal
to begin again.

Thanks to artist John Phandal Law and Paul Brooks of The Wombwell Rainbow for this prompt.