After Waking

by David Chorlton / September 27th, 2015

Morning in America: sunlight
climbs the house fronts
and the pines grow high
while last night’s speeches are dissected
on the early television shows.
Deer move nervously to water
as hawks come to their winter skies
and interest rates are sleeping in.
There’s clear sky today
with the occasional wail
of a train pulling freight from China
plus short bursts of lawnmower noise
when Mexicans are working
on Sunday. Candidates’ faces
appear in homes from burning California
to Manhattan, each making threats
rephrased to sound like promises
and democracy’s ragged edge
frays by a few strands more.
We’re still a little bleary-eyed
this morning, listening
to the coffee maker hiss, watching
sparrows pick what they can find
from round about them,
waiting for the weather forecast
and the latest death toll
from Iraq and Syria, to mix into
the cereal of choice at breakfast time.

David Chorlton has lived in Phoenix since 1978. He grew up in England with watching soccer as a major part of life although he has managed to move on to other interests since then, including reading and writing poetry. Read other articles by David.

This article was posted on Sunday, September 27th, 2015 at 8:04am and is filed under Poetry.