a pink sun rises and her heart
beats in rhythm with the coffee that is
drip, drip, dripping in the kitchen.
she is warm, she is unknowing
still for minutes more, one foot
dangling casually from bed to floor.
someone puts the bacon on,
fat cracking fireworks from the stove
while news drones on from the television.
did she notice the birds
in their perfect V formation
ripping across a November sky?
slip the back door open just
a bit more, the dog, burly as she is
squeezes through and runs, runs, runs.
I’d guess they don’t look down,
from way up there it’s all just
noise anyway, it’s all the same
all the same.