Crisis Sunrise

Crisis Sunrise

Awakened by the morning light
And the chirp of chipper birds’ delight
The earth’s alive and people move,
Hurrying, scurrying,
Like rats in hopeful search of food

Painted walls glazed new in an ancient room,
Each day's restored like yellow roses bloom
In sunbeam baths, warm as blade wound’s blood,
Gleaming, steaming,
But my heart feels not the sun’s hot love

Nor sniffs the rose’s saccharine bud
Just wallows, stuck in wretched sorrow mud
Like slide show photos of a lover passed on,
Flashing, fleeting
Surreal thoughts of chances lost in years bygone,

There it is again; it’s growing
That ugly, orange gourd is glowing,
Plopping guts on me from up above,
Covering, smothering
Then, all I hear are haunting hoots of Mourning Dove