Last Light, First Light
Morning calls us moments
before the sun wakes our silence
broken beautifully by ducks and geese
announcing with efficient excess
what our digital alarm will later predict.
Their cries and honks echo beneath
the bridge where they shelter sometimes,
unless the tide catches them unaware.
They are part of the sound collage
we hear nightly through our open windows.
Our Inner Harbor of sirens and drunks,
Currents of wind and water, ambient light
all battling sleep’s insistence.
Review by Joann Renee Boswell