Turn the lock
take a short walk
pluck a blue plastic package
from the lawn.
Blue pink orange pastels
washing across the horizon.
an avian megachoir full voiced
in stereo, quadraphonic
centiphonic sound.
No need to rush.
Mr. Coffee’s still ciphering
his caffeinated solution.
Linger a moment to audition
the morning senses giver’s
daybreak concerto.
Linger a moment:
Taste the fresh morning air.
(April, 2007)
Robert Charles Howard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-paper/
