Mornings (a haiku series)

School bells ring distant
and yellow crossing lights flash
harsh in dark on snow.

Oily dark roasted
coffee beans slip through fingers
measured to be brewed.

Morning breath steams from
my mouth and anticipates
an icy inhale.

Eyelids jump open
to light the day with waking
and blink like a pinch.

News lays flat in the
driveway waiting sadly to
be recycled pulp.

 

–Originally printed in  Something's Brewing anthology, Kind of a Hurricane Press, April 2014. Online and print.

 

Next poem:  Calf Creek

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