I Am the Voice

that whispers --
morning is emerging.

I see a man absorbed
in wake-up duties
starting car for warmth
a splotch of grease
riding his sweaty shirt
headlights now peering off
to work --
tool and die maker
by trade
son to follow
in his footsteps?

A crow’s first swing around
the neighbourhood
seeking leftover favours.

I observe one child
backpack almost the size
of his thin frame
Playbook tucked safely
away --
mother anxious
for son to get going
he’s engaged in fighting
sleepiness –- school
bus 7am soon.

Morning claps with
activity -- as dew clasps
twigs and limbs
in a last grasp to exist
sun’s yoke bringing
in new life -- and rising.

© Richard L. Provencher