Before Breakfast (Poetry)

It can feel a dangerous time of day —
not long out of sleep
the morning not yet started properly
and the mind inclined to drift — thoughts seem
to clutch at edges of some vague half-dream

He didn’t get to breakfast. Grandfather
died at table, sudden, where he sat
waiting for the egg he never ate
his heart not in it — stopped before his plate

It’s early now — the first-brewed tea just poured
the October sun uncertain of its climb
the year turned over, not much left to come
as days uncounted drop — a careless sum

Nothing seems quite set — the air’s in flux
the mood swings random, hears the wind outside
whip the leaves and test each weary branch
straining as they’re moved to sway and creak
Life hangs in doubt. The strongest will grows weak

I cannot face an egg this time of day —
it holds a contradiction lightly boiled
as superstition — not so easily dismissed
Tea and biscuits, on the whole, a less daunting risk