Napo 6

It's Monday. It's a busy week. I've got meetings to go to, papers to grade, students to scold, a trip to plan. I'm busy.

But still, there's a tiny silence for poetry.

This morning's prompt was to write an aubade. After a bit of thought, I wanted to write a goddess aubade about getting up and recreating the world through a routine. This poems needs more magic, more mightiness. I want to show the magic in the mundane. I want this poem to parallel different creation myths, but on this busy Monday morning, I haven't the time to do the research. I'm leaving this note in hopes that I'll remember to come back and rework this little free write.

The Goddess on a Monday Morning

Let there be light, and there was,

She flipped the switch, alit

Their bedroom into being, colored

Everything the night obscured.

She rises from the bed, shakes sleep

From her hair, brushes the sour taste

Of lifelessness from her teeth.

Her bare feet meet the tile,

Creating a music of morning

As she ambles to the kitchen,

flipping every light switch

turning everything aglow

with morning. She makes the kettle

whistle, creates the smell of coffee,

of life, with pouring water,

undoes the mess of last night’s dinner,

washes everything clean –

the grease, the lingering smell

of must, the crispy bits of mistakes

left at the bottom of the pan.

She pours sunshine into bowls,

sets life onto the table, clanks spoons.

The toast pops up. The coffee moans.

Then she awakens everyone

With her voice, a yell that echoes

Through the hallway, brings the world

Back into being. Breakfast!