Picture
Bright Morning sun
Why do we bother with the rest of the
day,
the swale of the afternoon,
the sudden dip into evening,
then night with his notorious
perfumes,
his many-pointed stars?
This is the best--
throwing off the light covers,
feet on the cold floor,
and buzzing around the house on
espresso--
maybe a splash of water on the face,
a palmful of vitamins--
but mostly buzzing around the house
on espresso,
dictionary and atlas open on the rug,
the typewriter waiting for the key of
the head,
a cello on the radio,
and, if necessary, the windows--
trees fifty, a hundred years old
out there,
heavy clouds on the way
and the lawn steaming like a horse
in the early morning.



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