THIS MORNING VISTA

A Poem by John Grey

Coffee from the day before,
a kitchen like looking in a mirror,
more plates in the sink
than in their assigned place…
why does the day bother to wake you?

God forbid the sun might shine
on less than perfect faces.
Bitter or belligerent,
it knows where people live.

And look, out the window,
rabid foxes, starving rabbits,
are coming down the pike.
In this sad world,
you never know
what’s happy to see you.

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