Morning Person

I am not a morning person, for one reason or another
Even if I’ve got my six or eight I still like to lay in bed
Just a little longer, after waking up I like to stretch
And know that I can stay there if I want to
But today we woke up early
We heard something outside
Put on robes and big down booties
And went toppling down the stairs
It was foggy, thick like cotton candy
Streets deserted, parking places
All around the startling thunderous piercing sounds
Of nothing
All shut down and put away, it’s a holiday
We’re right here in the city on our front porch
And all we hear are birds today
I am not a rural person
I grew up on sidewalks and driveways
And later on in life I lived
In many urban areas
It’s not that I’m crazy about traffic jams or overcrowding
Or stress or noise or lines or locking cars or voice mail
I just like to feel the pulse, to know that I can have some
Even if I rarely grab some I still like to know I can
So we jumped in the car still wearing our pajamas
Drove down to where the land ends
And where more birds begin
There were pigeons, ducks and crows and seagulls
Vying for cold white bread crumbs
Doing all their dances, raising heaven
In different voices
It was strange and beautiful, crisp lettuce air
And somehow peaceful
We just sat there in the car, and finally
I even turned the engine off
And there it was again, that noise.
Of nothing, nil but nature
It was big and wide, and slow and clear
And all around and shh
The little voice inside my head was vying for brain bread crumbs
But sometimes you have to lose your mind
To come to your senses
I am not a morning person
I’m a nighthawk, busy flying
But I do enjoy the morning
If I should happen to wobble into it
And if you put me in the country
Just don’t tell me we’re in the middle of nowhere
Say we’re on the outskirts of everywhere
And I’ll be fine
And if it’s dark, tell me to look up at the sky
That the stars are the campfires of our ancestors
And remind me, don’t just do something
Sit there