For the first day, I followed the prompt, which was to write a poem that has the same first line as another poem.

(I got my first line for this poem from the book Hailstones and Halibut Bones, by Mary O’Neill.)

Time is purple
bruised by the rigors
of constant motion
through the phases
of days few remember.

Reconsidering the clock—
the timepiece, if you will—
time wonders
(to itself, of course)
what it would be like—
what would it be like?—

just once,
to rest for a moment.

A moment to stop.
A chance to breathe.

Now time can close its eyes
and dream
or enjoy the warm light
of the sun
on its face,
the cool breeze
of the afternoon,
the peace
of a moment
all to itself.

What would really happen
if time were to stand still—
just for a moment?

(4 April 2013—written 1 April 2013)