An Aubade, praise poem for the morning, inspired by Frederick Snock’s Morning presented on The Writer’s Almanac post yesterday.
All year long there is
a window by the red coffee pot,
a ship’s porthole looking
out to the day’s beginning.Sometimes there is a jay
in the birdbath beyond,
if the cat isn’t there,
flapping feathers clean and blue.Today, I filled the feeder
with sweet red juice
waiting for spring hummers
come to decorate the sky.






