Mornings

It seems I've become a morning person. How did that ever happen? I blame the working life: for most of the last ten years, I've been arriving at work at 7:30 AM. Since I generally ride the bus (almost exclusively, for the last few years), that means getting up at 6:30 most days.

In assembling a manuscript for Able Muse, I've noticed a really quite astonishing number of morning poems: so many that they ended up getting their own section, roughly a quarter of the length of the proposed book. Poems about early morning dreams, about waking up, washing my face, walking to the bus stop or from the bus stop to my office.

It's usually quiet that early in the morning. I'm fresh, my mind wiped clean of yesterday's concerns by sleep, but sometimes tinted by fading dreams. I get a first look at the day's weather, often very different from yesterday's. This time of the year, if it's not too heavily overcast, there's often a sunrise to look at. So it's not too surprising that I wind up writing aubades...

Forgot to mention also that my second guest post was up at Write Anything.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside