For years I thought they were called morning doves,
And I hated their ceaseless cooing, cutting
Into dreams I never really remembered anyway.
Woo-woo-woo, they say.
Not like sorority girls in gay bars—
That’s from a different time of day.
Now, early mornings, 4—5—6 o’clock,
Are my favorite time of day.
It’s when the cathedral of night
Hews the difference between yesterday and
Today, making space for—
But, maybe, relief, reserve, deferral, delay.
Pleasures are like sleeping partners,
Constant but easily forgotten.