What shall I tell myself this morning,
aside from the obvious fact
about the rain reporting to work
again as it did yesterday, promptly,
two minutes past the hour?
My class does not start till half-eleven,
so may I now return to bed to plan
today’s English grammar lesson?
Who will not show up today? Which
students will forget their homework?
The traffic jam is starting this minute;
I can feel it in my water and in my
bones, but we do not honk our horns
here, our bumpers never touch;
I allow my head to sink back to sleep.
Outside, the light is growing, birds
will wash themselves in the puddles,
then forage for food, chirping merrily.
No appraisal interview about who
gets to catch the first worm of the day.