Facing The Day (poetry)

Early —
light seeping through dormitory firs
too dim yet — dawn-murky
no disturbance of birds
just the gurgle of Twinings
then steam rising slow
from my cup on the sill
its hot breath like a huff
on cold morning’s window

The quiet’s soft bandage
still pinned to the night
the roar of life hidden for now
nothing stirs pain’s reminder
wounds knit out of sight
while tea soothes
like only
those first sips will do

Then I spot it —
a flicker of movement on high
in the crook of a branch
watchfully sly
a shape — the dark’s ominous leftover blot
a manifestation of some lurking doubt
pantherous crafty
I grab edit’s gun
fire a few rounds of curses ...

a new day’s begun