such sounds were reserved, ones that would wake you.
laying there in the morning, full day ahead. touching snooze
to gather more sleep, to gather better dreams. a door opens
and a dog begs for attention. little things like the early light,
the sound of soft feet on hardwood, a car coming, then escaping.
such sounds were reserved for you. wake to unfamiliar familiar.
same as always, touch a button. the coffee maker bubbles,
crickets still sing, birds chirping aloud, coming through
a cracked window in a dim room with the shades drawn.
sounds of a day that were reserved, open morning new july.