icy eyes awaken to

flashing clock --

same numbers:

5:45. I

move from my cocoon- like bed,

to the darkness the kitchen,

flip on the light

to see the not-yet-woken world:

snow-laden wonderland still sleeping.



Cold milk cascading

over crispy cereal,

mixing with the blood red strawberries

squelching the crackling, crisp nuggets



Mom, making lunches

her voice the sweetest sound to hear

Dad, cradled under the florid comforter



The screen of the T.V.

Lit with Saved by the Bell,

a hushed peace.

The quiet before the storm.