The rising sun, the approaching noon.
The clouding sky, many awakening soon.
Some go to school, some go to work.
Some stay at home, avoiding the morning’s murk.
Many see the sunrise, those who are tired don’t.
Many choose to admire it, yet many won’t.
The roosters crow, the flowers look up from the ground.
Birds create music all around, creating a majestic sound.
It’s the middle of the day, a time to be alive.
It’s not sunrise or sunset, still a time to thrive.
Some sleep in, too tired from the day before.
Others will awake, looking for something more.
A time for people to adventure, one for people to explore.
A time for travel, right at the day’s core.
Some choose to think of the past, some live in the present.
The flowers can now be seen, ever more fluorescent.
The falling sun, midnight nearing.
Doors are locked, many are fearing.
People get home after a long day’s work, little children go to sleep.
Some do their schoolwork, receiving knowledge to keep.
Many see the sunset, those who still have energy don’t.
Many choose to admire it, yet many won’t
Thousands of people too tired to even mutter.
Still, photographs taken with the shut of the shutter.
Poet: William Nussbaum
Photographer: Joseph Rydarowski
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