Day 10: Waking First

Poem:

Waking First

In sleep I float, hover over cloudscapes

when the alarm creeps in,

its buzzing bleat distant at first,

whispers of tomorrow from another universe

until a fist hits my back,

pushes me back into bed

just to stretch, press a button,

roll out a hundred pounds heavier.

I shed clothes as I walk,

kick tub wall, scream silently.

My eyes only open when water hits,

hot pricks on warm skin.

I don’t remember dressing

but fabric swishes while I stumble,

lurch toward coffee—

God’s morning gift.

The world emerges

a sip at a time,

listen to my brain hum,

reboot for another today.

I sit in silence while birds sleep,

breathe in the quiet dark

an hour before the sun will reach

to seduce a slumbering earth.

Commentary:

I hate waking up early--but I love early mornings.  This poem was an attempt to capture that dichotomy, both the jolt to an early reality of waking and the peace of settling in to a morning before the rest of the house and the world wake.  I selected words that were meant to emphasize the distinctions, both phonetically and semantically.