Bright Morning sun
Why do we bother with the rest of the
the swale of the afternoon,
the sudden dip into evening,
then night with his notorious
his many-pointed stars?
This is the best--
throwing off the light covers,
feet on the cold floor,
and buzzing around the house on
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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