morningscape

Wind-well symphony whistles
through heavy ribbed metal,
saluting start of another mistrial.

Single steaming cup. No pangs
prod inaugural hour. Reading
my bedside confession, heart

splayed. Feeling environed
by barefoot sentinels, feet
studded with soot of journeys.

Head empty or clear, looks
similar from here. Salvaged
throat housing lazy sinews.

Like new. Adoring my direction
even though the way deflects
attention. Punctual intervention.

Time finds me burrowed, on
borrowed rhyme. Fine! I'll do
the thing. What I said I'd do.