Summer Friday Morning

Except for the rev-whoosh-crash of waste collection,

the neighborhood’s quiet this morning: the garbage trucks

the only traffic I’ve seen; chirping birds

and humming fridge the only sounds. Through the

window the day looks beautiful, sun-brightened

and calm.  It will be a hot one, though–

steamy already, sweltering by afternoon.

At eight a.m., the cat went out; fifteen

minutes later, she’s back inside, stretched out

by the air-conditioning vent. With mug

in hand, I go out to check the plants,

my usual morning routine. I should have iced

the coffee, should have had a dawn bike ride.


Copyright 2013

T. Allen Culpepper


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