Morning

The birds sing their morning crescendo

Telling each other

Their lofty plans for the day

Smoofy comes in from catting around

He settles into his tower for sleep

I make a second cup of coffee

The sky takes on a soft pink

The day begins softly

The garbage truck rolls

Picking up the load from yesterday

I stretch my tired and worn body

Remembering my youth

Remembering how the days ahead

Are less than the days behind

The lights go off

The sun and the birds sing the morning together

Smoofy is oblivious

I wonder how many mornings

I will have ahead

Will I use them well

Or am I a bird chirping lofty ideals

In the early morning light?

Am I a day late garbage truck?

Am I the pink morning lost

When the afternoon sun swelters?

Am I the second cup of coffee

Looking for that charge?

Maybe I am all of it

An early morning

In the late summer of my life

Searching for lofty ideals

 

Dreaming

Instead of sleeping

 

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