-just before daybreak / for once my young wife-

my wife no longer, but once my young wife,
will be getting out of bed soon.

she’ll begin to put into place 
the many moods of morning, conning

with the tips of her middle fingers, the residue of sleep 

from the inner junctions at her eyes,–– examining
her early reflection with an unemotional response,

testing the water with an apprehensive hand, a narrow

breach in the penguin-patterned curtain is enough.

and then, clean and nearly dry, she’ll drink from a mug.

well, it used to be a mug,–– now? who knows.

this is the mug which informed me of something

long enough ago that I can’t remember clearly.

but wait. oh, yes. “World’s Best Teacher” –– a seasonal gift

from her grade school students nestled at the western
foothills of the Appalachian Highlands of southern Ohio.

we’re older now, both me and once my young wife.
and I rose from my bed this morning

before she rose from her bed this morning.