When it’s 5 a.m. but you’re wide awake
on a summer day when there’s no need
for early rising, no hurry to get moving,
what can you do really but sit on the porch
in your underwear, drinking black coffee in the dark,
watching cats prowl the yards and mourning
the loss of stars as the sky begins to brighten
slightly and a gentle wind breaks the stillness,
stirring the uppermost branch of the hackberries,
ruffling the feathers of the early birds
anticipating the dawn in that long, lonely
moment just before it that brings to mind
departed lovers and forgotten dreams;
but the birds sing reassuringly
as the first light reveals the first blossoms
on a late-blooming crepe myrtle,
and the coffee is good and strong.
Copyright 2016
T. Allen Culpepper