the morning silence

silent running
with routines and rituals
hung like cobwebs in
a dusty autumn breeze
sleepless nights give way
to the birth of another feckless day

strolling through
naked and half remembered dreams
it’s abstract revelation
and day old coffee
seems an acceptable compromise

time is a thin concept
as morning words stretch
from one computer screen to the next
blue white smoke forms in trails of
absolute divinity
no treachery, no
and in this moment
toenails are not yellow
hair is not gray
and souls are not tired

enclosed in a
computer hum
trailing an infinite sum
loneliness abates
as cat paws gently thump
across an old linoleum floor
even silence has a sound

i’m really a morning person at heart
but only on days where i can
and read
and write
and forget

grounded in the reality
of a forgone conclusion
defeat is reluctantly accepted
as we prepare
to start over
once more




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