This Moment’s Morning Light
Morning light coming through the door to my right
as if fire was in the air all around this room, where I sit
tickling keys with mind’s stages set within pictures
I cannot reach yet to describe, but the morning is well-enough for writing
A bird is speaking outside a window, down the street
perhaps shouting or praying or pissing off a neighbor
Yet, I hear it, and it has cadence within the morning light
and melody that banishes fright from my mind
A dog of the snow land Tundra dwells down the hall
She dreams of fields to run and play and in she comes!
Literally! just now!
Her eyes match the ghosts of the sea
haunted fiendships, travelers on the bow
Specks of dust line the keys which I put pressure upon to make verse
They serve their purpose, for better or worse
Burning candle and Sir Ruthless to my left
An arched white doorway connecting a kitchette
Wooden planks line this dwelling with barbells upon the floor
and trinkets upon the walls, adding so much more
to the history of love and life within this home
I am awake, yet all else are a-sleeping in this home
The couch draped in my snowy ivory blanket
Paintings of a drunken man are presented
Boxes from Amazon stacked in clumsy stacks
Papers addressed to those who wish to perform and act
Baby blue school paper addressing the need of Hope
I, all alone, no writer to quote
to make okay this day in any way
only the morning light
and I leave for my job at Home Depot
My tires greet the ground
I walk down the road
