5am

Among early morning currents
calling me with their drowse of
seductions comes the idea that
I get out of bed and dream. Cold

rooms barter with me – a moment’s
chill, an early breakfast, my softest
jeans. Soon two eggs boil. The tea
kettle murmurs under its breath

that it’s too early. Toast pops up.
Hot eggs are peeled as I warm to
a covey of paper notes dreaming
possibilities.

 

 

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