Some mornings
Some mornings
it all goes awry
lid twisted on wrong
mocha pouring over me
hurry to change my clothes
all before I feed the dog
rush to the dentist
not to be late
At the same time
the sun rose today
warmed the land
tomatoes and me
first of the season
ripe for lunch
I smiled at the quiet turn in this poem.
Some mornings insist on beginning with spilled coffee.
Others end with the first ripe tomato.
Thank you for the reminder that the day doesn't always stay the way it starts. 🍅☀️