Monday Morning

Birdsong.
Sun through the window.
Coffee.

Two children upstairs.
A paper and pen
before me.

The cat rests nearby
purring.

Your feet feel the floor,
bare and worn.
Somewhere, a rooster crows.

The day is coming
and it will be hard.
But you do not let it loom.

For now, there is only this.
and life is a miracle
to be savored.

About this poem

Welcome to my morning.

Tom