It is early.
The sky stretches above the mountains
–pale, white, untouched–
a question unanswered:
What will we make of today?
It is too early for thoughts.
The sun itself has barely opened its eyes.
Only the toddler is noisy and cheerful
as he munches the insisted-upon breakfast:
peanut butter sandwiches at the break of dawn.”Num!”
When I wake up
The lights are still twinkling
On the ski hill
And it’s just light enough
To see the snow-dusted mountains
Against the pale blue sky.
The kids are up already
Regardless of the time change,
Reading Barefoot Books
To their baby brother on the couch.
“Ooooh, aaaah, gawaaa!” He solemnly proclaims.
“He’s so talky!” says his big sister.
We all know he comes by it honestly.
It’s gonna be another big day of stories and chatter….
I boil water for coffee while the baby sings.
In the dim, dark house
the furnace rumbles and blows
breathy hellos into the corner of each room.
In this airy darkness
I try to lie still
while my toddler—
having made his nocturnal migration
into my bed—
sleeps beside me.
The baby in my belly wiggles
and flutters,
hoping for a snack.
Such a boy…
not yet born
and already wanting breakfast before dawn.
Just East Of Crazy Land 