6.10 am the first
sunlight streams in
the nighttime conversations
between hoot owls (muffled, understated)
-backdrop for dreams of escape and celebration-
fade out.
a heavy cat purrs peace of mind on my chest.
the morning inhabitants
start their daily pursuits-
the scratching under the window
a wood thrush seeking breakfast.
waterbirds and songbirds, cacophonous,
sit like obese leaves on the poplar trees.
And through the dawn scene tears
the supersonic ache of a military jet-
and another,
and another,
and another,
like a shiver, a burn on the skin
(discomforting but almost...):
someone is on a mission,
there will be blood and victims,
it is time to get out of bed.