Words do not happen at the first morning alarm,
and words do not happen at the second alarm
just 15 minutes later. The pulling up of the comforter
a shield to the bright cheery sun. Slow
stagger on seemingly newly rubberized legs
ambling toward the kitchen, turn on the stove–
sleepwalk to the laptop, tripped by the cat
who wants morning treats, explain we need music.
Cats don’t seem to understand this, I don’ t know why not.
Slightly awakened by the motion, pour the water
into the press, get the damned treats, pour coffee.
I do use a cup, it isn’t a straight
transference, if I could figure out how though…
then, an hour, coming alive, reading the news
before five rushed minutes to get out the door.
Prompt: Morning ritual