the sky tapped her fingers
on the roof this morning
a reminder
she wakes early
patiently waiting for me
to come to the table
and start the day
with a short simple visit
she is silent now
the rain has stopped
and she holds her breath
the irony
(i see now)
is that i’ve been
holding my breath, too—
waiting for a voice
from heaven
while she
has been waiting
to hear mine,
tapping a beat
hoping i’ll add the tune
and a lyric
to mirror
the colors of her face
the dawn whose beauty i trace
………………………..
making music in the morning
by troy cady
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