Good Morning

Here they come, our neighbors. Wood ducks, cormorants, mallards, herons, and barrow's mergansers are sleepy, half-pronounced syllables uttered with black ink. The sun brandishes what she has in her candy bag of light, and the sky tastes of ruby, melon, calypso orange, and pearl. Come out, come out! she shouts. Colors, schedules, layouts, and noise beckon our bodies from the susurrus dark. Our voices rise from the bed. The mallards on the dock quack hungrily. Cormorants dive deep. There is no going back now. Day is here and night has starved us for it, all over again.