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(June 1,1978)

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Morning Song

The sun is hiding behind clouds,
I did not invite her.
My night ends, your day starts,
But we are all tired, so tired.
The same sort of tired, birds know it first,
I wish you a good night, I go to sleep,
Locking the sun out,
The blanket is a better friend than busy light,
The birds do not know that.

And then my self goes traveling,
I leave you all to it,
Your toils, lawn mowing and driving,
I do not know what is more real to me or you,
Eight hours here, eight hours there,
But the sun will be gone again when I return
To my morning, the birds asleep,
While you do not know I exist,
And I barely know it myself.

Submitted: Thursday, March 07, 2013


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Comments about this poem (Cogwheel by Jan Hauck )

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  • Jan Hauck (3/7/2013 4:01:00 AM)

    I'm also a full time night worker at a hotel reception so this poem describes, among other things, the way I go home every morning while the rest of the country is starting their day and I go to sleep.

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  • Gajanan Mishra (3/7/2013 2:53:00 AM)

    I leave you all. thanks. good one.
    I invite you to read my poems and comment.

  • Sandy Player (3/7/2013 2:18:00 AM)

    The window square whitens and swallows its dull stars.
    Nice poem; it wasn't what I expected it to be when I saw sylvia plath as one of your influences and knowing she had another morning song. But then again this poem makes sense when we consider you're a northern hemisphere guy in New Zealand.

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