In the a.m.

 “And yet day and night meet fleetingly at twilight and dawn”
—Mary Balogh, A Summer to Remember 

Bare feet jammed in gritty Danskos
Pink legs clad in “Fight Like a Girl”
Sleep sticking eyes, morning pine scents
Brewing coffee recedes behind slammed door.

51 steps—nickers, sharp ears
Doe eyes trace my stumbling steps
Treats: “Horse on the left.
Horse on the right.”

Slinking strides eat dirt
Urge the gate back
Crop grass crop grass crop grass
My gritty pink foot rests on a rock

Now muck bucket and fork,
Digested grass buzzes with flies before me
I look to the horizon, black horse silhouettes
Above them I spy

A rosy stegosaurus stomping over
The rising sun
Dissipating more quickly than his
Earth-bound predecessors

Pitched fork strokes, bucket dumped
Dust there, dust under the broom
Garden with earthy moist scent
Lethargic grasshoppers doze in parsley

Patty pan squash yellow flying saucers
Balance in one hand, twisting open stuck door
Coffee wafts down the stairs
Morning chores done, amen.