2024 - day sixteen

 The prompt is an unexpectedly abstract ending.

The sea, burnished steel,

Diamond star sparkles, blue sky,

The news is of war.

Day the thirteenth

On this the the thirteenth day the prompt is a non-apology, the discourse so beloved of politicians and confidence tricksters . . .

I am (not) sorry

a thief I am, and I feel no regret,
whilst still I utter anodyne and
pointless phrases, my apology is
conditional for what have I done?

I stole the day and danced with the teasing breeze,
I stole the time to walk beside the taunting seas,
I stole the hours of rain to linger long,
I stole the moments in the wild birds' song.

For all these things I took and knew no shame,
For all these things I'd steal again and again.

Day the first.

The prompt refers to an action of some sort as a metaphor for life.

Rain

I was born when the first raindrop fell
And I grew as the raindrop became an ocean.
As a river I met friends, more than I can tell,
And as I grow old and ponderous, in slow motion
I drift into an estuary, and thence the sea.