What makes a morning?
What makes it right?
Alarm clocks chime,
coffee scent, or the Sun
shedding first fragments of
its life? Never not the time that
begins the day, shifting through
seasons slightly altered either way.
Conceivably it is our attitude
coming out of precious night.
What makes a morning?
What becomes of the light?
© 2026 j.g. lewis
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