Out of the slumber of night, dawn awakens,
light dripping out over white earth.
Tendrils of sun, grasping like the wizened knuckles
of grandmother, reach out across the snow dusted hills.

Frost, claiming the car as its own, dissipates slowly,
forcing a decision on sleep clouded minds;
show up late to work or get up early and scrape the windshield.

Standing at the stove, making breakfast,
warmth from the electric stovetop
clashing with cold window drafts.
Hands warm with cooking,
cheeks cold from staring out the window,
the disparate temperatures oddly comforting.

A magazine, filled with other people’s opinions,
two eggs, a hot cup of coffee and
a dirty tablecloth.
These welcome the new day.

The drive to work,
radio waves echoing inside the car.
The drive, peaceful in the mountains,
frustrating in the town.
Thick fog, a fluffy white cape,
dresses up the cascades.

The car pulls into the parking lot,
two minutes after eight,
the three usual suspects smoking their morning cigarette,
the smoke indistinguishable from frosty breath.

I walk inside, the day begins.

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