Morning

Come morning,
almost before light,
my dreams slip away

into wakefulness.
Outside the window,
one bird calls, then another,
and a car rolls by, off to somewhere.
I swing the old legs out of bed,
feel the floor on bare feet,
realize that the world
is still under me.
I recognize it,
this good, familiar place,
pause for a moment to take it in:
the dog sprawled out
on his back,
the woman I love,
her face buried in a pillow,
a cat curled in the curve
of her arm.
They will sleep on, for a while.
But they are awake
in me,
bright as sun,
my morning,
my life.

--Timothy Haut, March 19, 2016