Done sleeping at 4:45

I kicked off my covers and

Went to the kitchen to make

Warm Coffee.

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.




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