Selected Poems
First morning Maisonneuve
The first sound to wake you
is the soft shuffle of curtains
pulled open by your mother.
Steel chill sunlight arrives and
stretches across the floor, toward you
curled up in the furthest corner, of your bed.
Your first sight is a lone maple tree in the neighbor's yard
filled with starlings, snooze alarmed with bark and squawks.
Their black bodies fill the tip tops of every barren branch.
Each bird knows, exactly how you feel.
When the window is cranked open one by one, every bird leaves
as expected. Winter, rude, caresses your shins, under the blanket.
This is the first day in the new house.
