vignette / what daylight brings

I'm drawn to the commonplace for reasons clearly defined

but not issued in the form of a directive, and I'm free to be

cantankerous if the opportunity presents itself.

this happens within the space between the chasm of deep sleep

and full awakening, the space where I find the pour of coffee,

the cat’s mellow meow, the reporting of annoying politics, and the occasional

appearance of something which changes its attitude with time and distance.

this morning the common sparrows daydream of a better station in life

which never comes, but the trees appear to be better served by sparrows.

what is not better served by morning's arrival is last night’s pronunciations

slathered across the illuminated screen panting for my blessing or pleading

to be forgiven its faults. –– as in.. every fucking morning.