routine
he rises every day in the hours of deepest
darkness without complaint and filled
with the satisfaction that duty calls
coffee is prepared the night before
a cup stands by as silent guard
clothes are arranged in proper order
morning’s puzzle is solved without variation
he is dressed while you are dreaming
and at work before the sun
sweat pouring from his brow
for no one else to see
from one day
to the next
steadfast
::
::
::
In honor of National Poetry Month, this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.
April 2nd, 2012 at 8:10 am
the puzzle without variation has turned our mornings into a sad state of affairs….we need some variation soon or our rut is going to swallow us whole……xo
April 2nd, 2012 at 9:23 am
Routine, my favorite fellow; no matter how restless my nights, I welcome his morning reassurance. Thanks for giving him form.
April 2nd, 2012 at 9:32 am
Love this and the steadfast presence of routine which builds a foundation for daily living.
April 2nd, 2012 at 9:53 am
I’ve arrived here before my morning routine still a bit stuck in a hypnopompic state :). Another day, another poem, this one emotionally engaging as it fades to the isolation of the man in his steadfast pursuits.
April 2nd, 2012 at 9:55 am
There is much to be said for routine…especially in those early morning hours when the brain hasn’t quite fully clicked into the “on” position.
April 2nd, 2012 at 9:58 am
The men and women who serve – ready, standing guard. I thought of police, firefighters, the people who are willing and courageous enough to be our unsung heroes. I love that the poem became a shield. Excellent.
April 2nd, 2012 at 10:47 am
You capture it perfectly. 🙂
April 2nd, 2012 at 11:39 am
Faith. Beautiful.
April 2nd, 2012 at 1:15 pm
“without complaint.”
i deeply heart that man.
and your precise language that honors him.
April 2nd, 2012 at 9:50 pm
I have to say… a few routines make me more willing to accept and love the spontaneous stuff.
Love this.
April 3rd, 2012 at 7:39 am
“he is dressed while you are dreaming . . .” i read this yesterday morning, and felt the comfort of that. and gratitude. this morning i still do. thank you for reminding me of those who allow me to dream.
April 3rd, 2012 at 7:37 pm
This poem hits home because it is so much like my husband and the man he used to be. Although he’s dressed while I am dreaming, his purpose in life has changed greatly.
Lovely. Comforting.