As mornings are born
Light pours into the darkness
Potential returns
Mornings have great power, setting the tone for the day.
Computer Whisperer
Eternal movement
Hands sprinting on these dials
Relentless motion
Forcing wakefulness
I resist vigorously
Weariness grinds
I pull my dust together
And rise
A sunrise
Wakefulness comes
Not yet ready
I resist
Summer’s hints remain
Echoes of heat and sunshine
Sunny autumn morn
Awake
Against my will
My uncontrollable mind
Second guessing my life
Every choice open to
Ridicule
Through my open window
A lone bird’s chatter
This strange, calm click
Answers my insanity
With a call
For tea
It’s not quite six yet
Which I still find “too early”
The boy’s in high school
I’m still adapting to the high school schedule. That will come. That will come.
Morning
Sleep, awake
A subtle dance
Between states
Unwilling to choose
Not just yet
Not just
Yet
I find it far easier
Waking to poetry
Than to news