Early mornings were always booked
for me and my dad had the world at our hands
when the sun was still young and rich of color.
He taught me how to make eggs rich of flavor
taught how the early bird gets the worm
taught me that there was a sincere loudness
in the silence of the morning.
The world mourning another night passed
another day ready to break open like an egg
and sizzle with the spice of life.