Done sleeping at 4:45
I kicked off my covers and
Went to the kitchen to make
Warm Coffee is a cuppa
With a lot of milk
And little sugar.
Has to be made before
The sun comes up
While it’s still dark and
Today is unclear.
Sixty years ago
When my dad came to visit
Mom let him stay on weekends.
I was in grade school
Thrilled to have my Daddy home,
Hopeful he might stay this time.
I woke early, listened for his morning sounds:
The flushed toilet, sink water running,
Daddy going to the kitchen
While it was still dark outside! Yay!
I saw the light under my bedroom door
And crawled from my covers.
Wrapping my blanket around me
Listening to the percolating percolator
In the chair next to the window
With the perfect view of sunrise.
Hi Skeeziks he said
With a big smile and a cigarette clenched
Between his teeth.
He patted the chair next to his:
Come sit down with me.
I have the pot on and
We will wait for morning
And have some Warm Coffee.
(Warm coffee is just enough coffee
In a mug of warm milk, good for kids
With their dads in the early morning.)
We talked in whispers, my dad and me,
As if we might scare morning away:
Did you sleep well? Me too.
And what do you think of your teacher this year
And are you going to plant a garden in spring?
Then we grew silent
Waiting, watching, listening
For the song of the first morning bird:
Who would hear it first?
The blackness of the star-studded sky
Faded to deep blue
and we whispered about school,
Who was I gonna be when I grew up?
I see big things for you, Funny Face!
We stopped talking and turned
To the sun rising in the window.
The bird sang!
Daddy squeezed me
“I heard it first, Sad Sack!”
I woke in his lap, with his arms around me
Sunbeams falling through our window.
And the mockingbird sang about
Our perfect morning.