\"la monde d’jour\"
a kosmos of the day
loosens itself from morning’s sleeve,
small radiances drifting out
like fruit‑dust shaken off a market stall.
streets breathe in temporary constellations,
each passerby carrying a private sky
stitched for daylight use only.
by evening, the world folds its wings,
tucks it into whatever eave stays warm,
and waits for tomorrow’s version
to rise with a different face.
.