It will not be a celestial spirit
who coaxes song out of this moment,
but a harried doughnut-shop worker,
thirty, petite, & in quick sneakers,
alone to deal with early customers,
the several patient crack-of-dawn regulars,
& the light of quarter past five
caressing the rust-red surface of tables
where early risers gather
to caffeinate & greet the morning
slowly trafficking herself awake.