How do the eggs on my plate become
the words I right now state?
There is so much to do today!
Doing nothing is probably the best option.
But how does one do by not doing?
Outside, two, three, four chickadees flirting from
feeder to branch and back to the feeder.
Shaking, shrugging snow off their back
oblivious of nature and her schemes, her dreams.
I wish there were an instrument I could dip into my coffee.
It would tell me of all the hands that have touched this brew
and bring me back to the field where it was born.
Two things I love the morning for –
1. Waking up to discover what’s new in the world!
2. The emptying. A bowel movement that lightens and sends me out into the day.
When does the morning end?
With the closing of the door and the starting of the car?
With the splash of water on the face?
With the last gulp of the first coffee of the day?
With the precise pointing of the clock or the warm, winking of the sun?
Morning. A kind of hangover so drunk we are of sleep.