The Morning Ritual


by Ann Marie Wilson-Crockett

begins, my legs leaving
the warm cocoon of my comforter
leading my drowsy feet
to the floor.

Opening the bedroom door, cats
greet my waking, anticipating
the clang of the spoon
against the tin announcing
their tuna and chicken delight

Walking upstairs
I start calling names
the pain of mom’s cheery voice
breaking their deep slumber.
Groans of disturbed sleep rumble
from beneath a pre-teen’s blanket.
While, Bodhi vigorously thumps her tail,
hoping for a quick tummy rub.

Into the next room, pushing aside
striped curtains, light bursts
in stirring sleep; a kiss to heads
and morning whispers into ears,
“fifteen minutes left to sleep”
as blankets are pulled
tighter into their cat curled bodies

Downstairs again, filling lunch boxes,
toasting bagels, pouring
cereal, three glasses
of ice-cold milk ready to awaken
sleep thirsty mouths.

The coffee machine awakens
drips of bold, nutty brew filling
the kitchen with the aroma
of the comforting
routines of a day.

Category: Poetry