Sunday
is the only day left
for stillness:
morning
the only time left
for silence.
I wake by a warming
window light,
not interruptive,
but suggesting reform,
filtering through sheer
beige curtains, the rays
whispering to me,
“Today will be easy,
and it is yours.”
And on Sunday,
I am not bitter
for the ivy shadows
on my carpet, not jealous
of the sun’s true devotion.
I do not envy the places
she invests her energy
besides me, my skin,
my engorged brain
just looking for
stillness.
Dani Fruehan is a fourth-year student at Penn State University Park enrolled in a five-year BA/MA program for creative writing. Through this program, she has studied under strong and established writers, who inspire her to always write her truth. She also works as a writing tutor and as a Workshop Coordinator for the Penn State Learning Writing Center. She loves to write poetry and has been published in previous editions of Klio/Kalliope.