wakeup calls

We wake up like new bodies,

with eyes that have washed out yesterday's adventures

and a longing to replay every good moment that followed us into our dreams.

We wake up to open windows

garbage trucks

sirens that are up too early

sounded by men who were up too late.

Some birds find their wings in the winter,

and if they can, then I should

because the sunshine never determined it was morning.

But people lose their step on the way out the door,

their balance gets lost between the cracks in the pavement,

and it doesn't stop the morning.

It doesn't stop the morning from leaking between the mountains.

It doesn't stop the breakfasts from being ordered

and the graveyard shift workers still find their beds

and the teachers

and lawmakers

and artists still sing in the first hours of the sun

and I want you to read this

in case you woke up without loving the way the sun kisses you

and the skies talk about the fall that's on its way.

I hope you wake up and wash yesterday out of your eyelids

but keep the pride on your collar

and walk with the same belief that 

a day has never loved you so much.