Bandon: Early Morning

Walking to the Barn in the predawn dark
I let myself in, turn on the lights,
move things around, set out clean mugs,
write important labels on minor things,
unlock the front doors and step out—
into the first beams of the rising sun.

The bare trunks of the lodgepoles,
a colonnade of light
etched against morning mist.

The smell of salt.

Cold air on my bare feet.

Everything else that happens today
will taste like this.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside