By Don Iannone
Monday morning darkness fades
as shimmering sunlight fills the front window.
Cheerful bird voices punctuate the sunrise
taking its time deciding what color dress to wear.
The three cats do their morning yoga
while I wait with puffed eyes and unruly hair
for fragant last drops of coffee to fill the awaiting pot.
Thoughts of writing a poem drift hopelessly through my consciousness--
knowing even a feeble poem requires a half cup of morning brew.
The day has started and so have I.