wake up

There is nothing you can grip 
hold of in the morning sky

The red-eye flights headed east 
bring our west coast friends in on a plane 
listen as the garbage truck beeps in its backing 
the sky fills in turn with day and night

lift your groceries and garbage
in coming and going You don’t see the poem

say anything you can not see in it
jet streams, airmail chased by contrails 

the contrail remains an unmoving streak towards sunrise
disquieting the pale quiet otherwise 

blue and orange of morning    
starts the day                the morning radio plays
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About m.a. wood

writer, thinker, musician, teacher
This entry was posted in beauty, morning, poem and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to wake up

  1. amabear says:

    “lift your groceries and garbage
    in coming and going You don’t see the poem”
    love that
    i think they’re chemtrails

    Like

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