BrokenEchoes

A chill frost crusts the morning grass And forms an impenetrable shell on my windshield I dread the cold and the wet and  the burning pain in my hands I could scrape the glass clean and have it done Or let the defroster work and have another cup of coffee I drink a second cup of the bitter brew  in the shadow of the foothills I drag the week’s trash down the treacherous drive To the curb, for pickup As the sun crests the mountain, It sets fire to the frozen particles  Clinging to the trash can A million dazzling glints on the black And I welcome the sparkling flame of morning.

  Waking slowly in the morning A soft rain in the Kentucky hills Coffee on the porch And bare feet in the grass Napping in the afternoon Soup beans on the stove Cornbread in the oven Then dinner at the table Dishes in the drainer Reading in my favorite chair Cat purring on the couch Relaxing for the weekend.

  I spent the morning in my head Reliving my recent failures Real or imagined  Vital or insignificant Then languishing in my grey mood Listening to the forbidden whispers Remind me that I am to blame It is all on me It is all my fault Then preparing for the day Making a plan Poking holes in the plan Reinforcing the plan Let’s see if it holds up Let’s see if today is a good day.

  The sublime speckle of droplets on the windshield Lifts me, awes me The deep roar against the metal roof And the lighter spattering on the glass Lull me, soothe me Lights on, radio off I lose myself in my senses I scout the wet morning I could drive like this forever Aimlessly Merging with the storm But not today I have places to be Maybe another time.

  Morning on the front porch Scanning the tree line Alert for the movement of squirrels and the like Outwardly I am quiet and still But there is a storm inside Thoughts whip by, threatening Or promising To carry me away Then gone, replaced by another Before I can grab hold I have my mug in both hands Just so I can hold on to something As I distractedly watch the tree line For a rustle or a swaying.

  I overslept I forgot my meds I broke a mug And hid the shards under other trash I didn’t want you to see The shattered cup Or the state of me I fed the cat I left for work I cried on the drive And dried my eyes before getting out I didn’t want you to see My silent struggle Or the state of me.

  It is a chill windy morning Between the east Kentucky hills The faint, barely there scent of a looming storm Mixes with the heavy maple notes Wafting from the main street diner The sun has risen somewhere But she is unseen Still concealed by the mountains Or veiled by the whispery morning fog I am walking to work When I walk out at the end of the day, This world will have changed again I linger I take in the quiet morning I appreciate it. Then I walk inside.