Coffee raises eyelids
but a gardener’s real buzz
comes from the morning sun
caught on tomato fuzz.
Category Archives: morning
Connections: March 31.17
If my camera could
I would
make a picture of the sound
this yawning day —
busy pattering soft
rain
mud-muffled,
tire splash
as people trespass
into worms’ world,
robin flutes
through the dripping dark,
splats
syncopated
on the roof.
Connections: February 8.17
The other day I happened upon
a forum on NPR
a rabbi’s words illumined
a mood as black as tar:
when optimism can’t be had
we must insist on hope,
and keep in mind the difference
as we walk this slippery slope.
I opened the window this morning
Die Zauberflöte silvered the air!
the crimson Papageno,
the high-headed Chanticleer!
Corny it may be
but I need to think it so
the return of morning birdsong
as rabbinical treetop echo.
Connections: February 7.17
Behold the breakfast table
in homey dishabille
history in the making
gummed with cold oatmeal.
Whither the flowered apron
ironed and daintily bowed,
cloth of bright blue gingham
à la Ozzie and Harriet mode?
How can appetite thrive here
amid such disarray?
Paging Martha Stewart!
Who lives here anyway?
(Me.)
Connections: January 5.17
I opened the window
and breathed way deep
the pre-dawn air
thick with sleep
drizzles had left it
soft and warm
very
un-January
not the norm
though wistful for spring
I understood
that January’s mud
smells almost as good.
Connections: December 27.16
When the hurly-burly’s done
wrapping paper war is won
fevered shoppings cease
there seeps a certain peace
the real celebration
the season’s culmination
savoring “Silent Night”
with breakfast
by Christmas tree light.
With apologies to Shakespeare.
Connections: December 9.16
First snow is always new
to me
turbans on seed pods
heavy as air
scant
waist-high to a grass blade
swaddling
the morning
like something
never seen
never breathed
before
to me.
