Mornings Resuscitation

Up from the steps it slunk into our morning’s peace.
I spied the flash, then a glint of bruised gray in her eyes,
As its chill blew across my cup the news story's corpse
crawled up the right side of Maddy's face,

I folded its throat neatly under, it let go and fell to the floor;

disappearing among wisps of dog hair and bread crumbs

and lost coffee grounds. Our morning regained its seat,

and settled back in with the comics.

Mutts and Red and Rover start over with jumbled words,
and 24 down and across. Uncle Russ' sketch is discovered from last night,
tucked neatly under one arm of a refrigerator magnet; its Earl the rabbit
again, sporting his wry smile and classic bendy ears.

A spark of a "thank you" prayer rises from the corner of my eye
for the sleight of hand that saved her thoughts from dread,
buried in the recycling with no afforded rites. You’re not to share
our peaceful hour! She doesn’t need to know you yet.

Maddy’s fingers find the piano and Bach’s Prelude fills the house.
An unwrapped gift just for me
to stay the day, long after she is gone.
She is playing still, when I close my eyes just right.