Morning Despair

I open my eyes these mornings,
And despair hits me like a slap in the chest.
Buddy hears me stir and stands by the bed
wagging his tail and coaxing me to get up.
I pull the covers over my head
until it passes.
Until Buddy starts whining and
I am too bored with myself
to lie there any longer.

I get up, turn on the heat,
put on the tea kettle.
Buddy follows on my heels,
wiggles at the kitchen door,
trying to get my attention.
He wants me to walk out with him
to get the paper,
meet the little boxer, Lulu,
and walk down the road.
It is too cold.
Later, I tell him

I get my tea and sit in the chair by the window.
Buddy jumps in my lap for a little snuggle,
then lies at my feet to wait.
It’s too cold for the birds.
They are nowhere in sight.
I close my eyes and try to meditate.
Until I am too bored with myself
to sit there any longer.

The despair lifts in unison
with the fog on the lake.
If the sun breaks through,
it’s faster.
And the day goes on.