Morning to me is watching the boy eat
while I impatiently tap my book
with a pencil.

Singing,
"Excess ain't rebellion
Your drinkin' what they're sellin'..."
while he painstakingly tries
to play air guitar and grab strawberries
at the same time.

My favorite time of day
is when it's too early to lie to myself
in small ways,
or even in positive ways.

Makes the dew damper felt,
though the coffee more disgusting,
sunlight brighter,
though shadows darker,
secrets less loud,
though truth remains quiet and tired