I walk through my
childhood neighbourhood.
Just because,
I lean against the lamp post
I held up every morning
in grade seven
as I waited for the bus.
Different weather
but always too
early in the morning.
More rusty,
it hummed
a greeting
remembering
(or maybe
that was me).
Look at that lovely pink sky.
Huh.
So that’s what a sunrise looks like.
Looks like it’s time
I went to bed.
The early morning knock
is answered with blurry eyes.
A too bright face asks if
a vehicle needs out of the garage.
The stomping above our heads
jarring us to wakefulness,
makes this so much more
Monday
than usual.
Large trucks high centre on
our steep driveway, whirling tires
Asphalt is scraped, rasping.
Scraping, scouring off the shingles.
Thudding as they hit the ground.
This Monday morning,
Coffee is required.
I’m leaving for work early.
This is too much Monday
for me.
Today
is one day closer to
The Day
when he goes away.
Flashbacks this morning
to junior high,
“Get up! Your dad is ready!”
“But Mommmmmm!”
You’re too old for this, my boy.
The day is coming,
when you move south
to live your next adventure.
Get up and face today
because you’re here so briefly
and today is unfolding
Shawn L. Bird 