The Restlessness of Morning

[Written August 2007]

there is a brightly colored ball
nested, wires interlaced -
a screen,
there is a room i slept in:
a mattress, a warm breath
on my cheek
and in the morning,
engines singing
like crickets

there is a familiar
but uneven path
when it rains,
the mud is unsettled
by water,
and there are three stones
that appear,
to hop on
with one foot
like a childish game
of hopscotch

there is an unraveling
of minutes,
unspooled as they are,
and each second is
spelled out,
like a word