Poetry by Cecil Morris
Last day, first day, side by side. Please, no.
I’d like a break, a pause, a little intermission,
like school with that last day in early June
and the first day held off until late August
or early September, one a sunny swell
of promise and satisfaction at having done,
the other a sunny swell of promise, too,
another chance to do things right.
Please, don’t give me a sandwich of now and then
with filling to airy thinness beat, the merest hint
of butter, jam. Please don’t give me a restless
interval too brief for number, a wink,
a blink between who I was and who I want
to be—really just another slice
of white bread from the same old loaf.
Give me a chance to change.
Cecil Morris is a retired high school English teacher, sometime photographer, and casual walker. His first collection of poems, At Work in the Garden of Possibilities, came out from Main Street Rag in 2025. He has poems in The 2River View, Common Ground Review, Rust + Moth, Talking River Review, and elsewhere. He and his wife, mother of their children, divide their year between the cool Oregon coast and the hot Central Valley of California.
