What then is the promise
Of Laura in the morning,
Hung at edge of dawning
On the ledge of waking day?
An early, grumbling rising,
A hoarse, mellow surprising,
Then – galvanized unwinding
As she coils and spurts away.

And then, in work’s unsettling
There is a drive and brash expression,
As her energy’s compression
Escapes into the fray.
A middling, roiling fusion
Of an entire world’s confusion
Cannot cut illusion
Or cause the mind to stray.

In evening’s shallow shadows
There is still a pulse that’s beating;
‘Though the hours may be fleeting
There is still a will to stay.
And as coyness comes uncovered,
As she learns the word “beloved,”
And is shocked not to be smothered
By the ebb and flow of play ….

At last it’s time for sleeping
And the restless search for calmness,
And she curls and twists in warmness
“neath the cover that must fray.
And at her last inch of waking,
Reaching out with foot and taking –
It’s an effort that’s worth making
Or – at least – that’s what she’ll pray.