SOUTH BAY SUNRISE
Thursday morning, half past four
I’m wide awake, feet on the floor
And up. I pull the curtains wide
I stand up straight, and I decide
To seize the moment, see the dawn,
See the day as it is born
Meet and greet the brand new morn –
(Seems like a nice idea.)
I try hard not to wake the halls
The sleeping girls through cheap thin walls
(They’d lynch me if I did. They’re all
In need of beauty sleep.
So I tiptoe across the floor,
And shower, quietly.)
I put my shoes and coat on,
Out the door without a sound
The streets are bare and empty
And there’s nobody around
Down past the sleeping chimneys,
And the rows of silent doors
I make my way down stony paths,
Down to the South Bay shore
A branch sticks up. Two blackbirds sit.
They flutter, and they chat a bit
They watch the stranger strolling by
And stare at him with beady eyes.
They seem to say this isn’t mine –
‘This is our hour, this is our time.’
‘I know,’ is my polite reply
‘But I’ll borrow some, if you don’t mind.’
I’ll borrow gold out of the grey
The smell of leaves and ocean spray
I’ll borrow the sand, as I’m making my way
When it’s fresh, untouched yet by the day.
Until, that is, I bend, and reach
And write ‘good morning’ on the beach
For whoever’s walking by the sea,
For whoever comes down after me.
A little unsolved mystery.
Then the water shines, gold on the black
And seagulls talk and squawk and laugh
And rabbits run across the path,
That brought me down and takes me back.
The grey, unyielding, stony track
Which brought me down and leads me back –
In time for breakfast.
