Morning

• In the nook of this morning
• there is the urge for busyness
• and meaning. But the golden
• has just hopped between
• two humans musing
• about the sun. How difficult,
• she thinks, to be so thoughtful.
• Her neck cranes downward
• toward the dirty floorboards
• takes a whiff
• of what is missing
• and suddenly remembers
• the shape of dirt.