Not Every Morning Not every morning is as this one, calm excitement for a future brought by change, so many years’ hard work to wrought from strange traditions of my past into this balm. The child me dreamt of serene home, torment behind for those who won’t escape, a flight into a better place of tranquil right, now come because travail and strong intent. Today I walk beyond a new threshold first entry to a home that prompts vast hope within my mind, a vision’s wide grand scope cementing me into a peaceful fold. This morning’s both beginning and the end, I cast the past long gone and now transcend. Fade to Gray Today we spoke of the expansiveness of beach sands next to morning sunrise sky. The water’s glassy deep blue edge scalds high to orange steaks that shoot vivid fluoresce. Between bare toes you feel sand’s fine caress, a smooth wet swatch of life in full supply, and know that all tomorrows will defy your past aptness to lose self in distress. The smallness of the self aside the long stretch of the sea, brings peace that overwhelms a lack of clarity. Your day to day, small tasks of life, no longer will be strong, will sift into the mists above with helms now gone from consciousness, and fade to gray. Anne Janai is a Frost Farm Hyla Brook poet and a member of The Poetry Society of New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in The Poets' Touchstone and Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing. She is a professional coach and Montessori teacher with an education in human development and clinical psychology.