Notes On The Morning
It was the same way every morning
A routine, of waking early, when it was still dark
Of opening the blinds to see the neighbor’s porch
Lights still on from the night before
I check to see if there is laundry to fold
There are apples to cut
Oranges to peel, grapes to wash
I set out the cereal boxes in a neat row
And pour the milk into measuring cups
Next to the bowls and spoons
I pack lunch for the youngest
Making sure she has something sweet
So she won’t be disappointed at noon
The music on the radio is soft
Covering me from the harsh dreams
Of you, of those temporary moments of
Seeing you, as you were, before you left
The violins are playful and light
And I imagine that I have shed this old blue robe
With the holes in the pockets
To wear a white gown and be a debutante
Swirling around the dance floor
Admired and loved
Or that I am being chased by Pan
Through the forest to a soft bed of pine needles
Where I collapse in laughter
I open the front door
To sit on a wooden bench,
The seat bowed slightly from
Years on the front porch
Bathroom lights click on across the street
A front door opens and a Korean woman
Already dressed in white for the day
Briefly steps out and then back inside
The geese on the lake behind her house
Are disturbed by something
Their furious honking competing with
Incessant chattering of delicate birds perched in bushes
A few cars sail by, their headlights still on
The daffodils are popping up, finally
A month late because our winter went on too long
A school bus lumbers to a stop in front of our house
The driver is looking for the oldest
I wave her on, sick today I say
Then get up and go inside, locking the door behind me
