Thursday, September 19, 2013

The dark. The gray. The wet.

It has been awhile since I have done anything before 7 AM.  This is practice for tomorrow when the doorbell will ring at 7:30 AM and our house will be presented for cleaning.  Of course this means doing a major pick-up tonight.  This morning it all feels, well, jungly.  Is that a word?  We do not live in a rain forest, but still it is warm and wet and gray (now), and green.  Like a jungle, almost.  Thankfully I did not awaken with an 8 foot long crocodile under my bed, like that man in Zimbabwe.

This morning brings the dark
The gray
The wet.
I would sleep in
But the dark
The gray
The wet
Invited my daughter
To stay asleep
Past her ride to school.
I become her ride.
Of course I drive
A different route.
There are at least
Three different ways
To school,
As many as there are drivers
Who live in this house.
Turn here
She says
Go there
She says
There are fewer lights
This way
She says.
I beg to differ
Oh I beg to differ.
Stop yelling at me
She says
In the dark,
The gray.
The wet,
We make it to school
I drive home
Decide the dark
The gray
The wet
Demands a mention.

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