Morning

A battered, sun-oxidized, dented, rust bucket of a clunking pick-up truck tows a heavy ass trailer through the darkness. The tools of a landscaper are posted neatly in their tubes along the railing of the trailer. The driver looks weary already, even the day has not yet begun. He has stopped for coffee on his way to the first job. Some younger guys slouch in the back seat of the crew cab. The moon has already set; the sun on deck for its debut. Ah, yes, this is the moment, the magical nut of what might be today. If I could freeze this moment and forever stay here, I would never move again. This is the tipping point on the teeter-totter of night and day, of dreams and having to actually get my sorry ass up and moving into my responsibilities. As tightly as I hold it, it slips from me. There it is, the growing glow, the dazzling shimmer of high clouds. Here it comes. One more chance to get it right.