Am I the first to rise at dawn

no, the brown dog sneaks off my love seat 

no surprise, hears my feet and springs

and the yellow one trots behind us down the stairs

for kibble under leftovers while my French Roast steams

in the kitchen quiet, then, down the stairs are barefoot girls - no, women

in sweatpants, t-shirts, half open eyes, at the faucet

filling water bottles for out the door toward

jobs on a farm across town start early

my husband is dressed, asking for coffee

to carry on his way to his 7 a.m. meeting

two pans of greasy are left on the stove

glasses, unwashed, by the sink

who has washed one pot, left it to dry

all the soda cans of excess to recycle rest

on foggy glasses and all of this mess

I used to mind when I preferred to stay and scold

now order will not be restored, how I love my life

my feet map disorder in woods

wandering me for as long as until

All photos and words copyright Kelly DuMar 2016