Slice of Morning

I’m waking to a sky

dark as chocolate ganache

swirled by the great baker,

her sparkly spatula,

her flourish of icing,

between bright coconut-

fluff layers of snow days

she’s stacked up one by one,

yesterday then today,

and soon I remember

the slice of cake sent home

after last night’s party

and I’m up like the sun,

first to rise out of bed

down the dim-lit stairwell

followed by the dog, star

of our world. How is it

he can beg shamelessly

for more? His bowl is full.

We are not unalike

after all. Let me slice

this last piece of sweet cake

in half and leave the rest.

Let me keep wanting more.