The Morning Shift

Image of Long Story Short Award - 2022
Image of Poetry
I work the morning shift at the park
It's cold enough to see my breath
And I watch as clouds of white
Escape from my lungs

It's early for me, yes, but not for the birds
Golden rays glitter off of their feathers
As they jump and flutter from branch to branch
Snacking on shiny red berries

I set the water to boil as I warm my hands
And a blue heron glides just above the water
I watch its graceful trajectory
As I stir sugar into my tea

A squirrel runs along the rim of a boat
And when it hops onto the dock
It leaves the boat to bob gently in its absence
Up and down, causing small ripples in the water

I look up while counting money for the register
To see a small spider scurry up the wall
It settles into the corner
And it slowly begins to spin a new web

I have fifteen minutes until I open the gate
I settle into my chair
And lean back into the sunlight
Enjoying the liminal space