The days are getting longer...
What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back
by Roseann Lloyd
Find a clean cloth for the kitchen table, the red and blue oneyou made that cold winter in Montana. Spread outyour paper and books. Tune the radio to the jazz station.Look at the bright orange safflowers you found last August-how well they've held their color next to the black-spotted cat.
Make some egg coffee, in honor of all the people above the Arctic Circle. Give thanks to the Sufis,who figured out how to brew coffeefrom the dark, bitter beans. Remarkon the joyfulness of your dishes: black and yellow stars.
Reminisce with your lover about the history of this kitchenwhere, between bites of cashew stir fry,you first kissed each other on the mouth. Now that you're hungry,toast some leftover cornbread, spread it with real butter,honey from bees that fed on basswood blossoms.
The window is frosted over, but the sun's casting an eyeover all the books. Open your Spanish book.The season for sleeping is over.The pots and pans: quiet now, let them be.
It will be a short day.Sit in the kitchen as long as you can, reading and writing.At sundown, rub a smidgen of butteron the western windowsillto ask the sun:Come back again tomorrow.
"What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back" by Roseann Lloyd, from Because of the Light. © Holy Cow! Press, 2003
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What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back
by Roseann Lloyd
Find a clean cloth for the kitchen table, the red and blue oneyou made that cold winter in Montana. Spread outyour paper and books. Tune the radio to the jazz station.Look at the bright orange safflowers you found last August-how well they've held their color next to the black-spotted cat.
Make some egg coffee, in honor of all the people above the Arctic Circle. Give thanks to the Sufis,who figured out how to brew coffeefrom the dark, bitter beans. Remarkon the joyfulness of your dishes: black and yellow stars.
Reminisce with your lover about the history of this kitchenwhere, between bites of cashew stir fry,you first kissed each other on the mouth. Now that you're hungry,toast some leftover cornbread, spread it with real butter,honey from bees that fed on basswood blossoms.
The window is frosted over, but the sun's casting an eyeover all the books. Open your Spanish book.The season for sleeping is over.The pots and pans: quiet now, let them be.
It will be a short day.Sit in the kitchen as long as you can, reading and writing.At sundown, rub a smidgen of butteron the western windowsillto ask the sun:Come back again tomorrow.
"What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back" by Roseann Lloyd, from Because of the Light. © Holy Cow! Press, 2003
