The morning dish
the dregs of dreams
the shock of the new
the world as it seems
the morning cat
the morning cup
the daily downs
the daily ups
the paper waits
beyond the screen
and unless I stir
it will not be seen.
I lift my eyes
take in the sky
a sheet of grayed white
lets go of a sigh
treetops are bare
birds are in flight
windows are dim
yearning for light
such is a day
nature declares
for mending one’s nets
and counting one’s cares.
Each day presents
as it begins
demands from without
demands from within
the put-off call
the unkempt hair
the hungry cat
the home repair
but when I rise
first is the hour
the old widow’s heart
demands her dower.
tfg 11.19.2025