Good morning

Mornings are life at its best; you sniff 

the mints in the moist air--so clean so fresh
(if you don’t rush, if you savor)
with new growth--and you catch a raucous 
opera in the trees, the first sip of French Roast, 
all distracting you from the future
(you forget there’s even such a place)
and your desire for an easier--for an eternal--
life and yet you’re quite aware 
that somewhere a clock is ticking 
with possibility.