This morning came twice
to meet my wan welcome.

There was pre-alarm
when my eyelids were
leaden, fingers numb
after some sleep asana,

and there was no joy in me
to power the muscles
to coax the bones
to shape themselves
around some idea of upright.

Half hour later
my hand rose instinctively
just in time
to palm the clock’s head,
pat the button down before it shrieked.

Second chance at fresh beginning,
and the light in dawn-streaked sky
lifted my lids and held them
open like a daisy, an offering,
a demure directive
to stretch already
and rise to meet
the God
in everything.

–Melinda Coppola



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