the early morning
ritual
for the fool
plays out the same
most mornings
with variable
rates of anxiety

wake
an hour before
the alarm
lay
halfway between
states of consciousness
as his heart
sings a soft serenade
lost in her
until
the alarm sounds

coffee
drips
as the shower
sputters
to life
the electric razor
buzzes
the birds
awaken
the world comes
alive

the sky
brightens
as the coffee
steams
as the serenade of
sleepy adoration
awakens
to a symphony of light
erupting
from my chest
to match
the golden tendrils
slowly
crossing
the horizon

mornings are for
coffee and her
for finding
a center
for draping myself
in her nimbus
and greeting
the sun
with a smile