San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

MARIA A. ARANA

Before My Commute

morning greets tired eyes

entering through open window

clouds uncover

a drunken sun

birds mingle on power lines

like vultures

waiting to devour

what remains left

from last night

washed on the banks

of my yard

I smell the basil

planted out back

to keep the flies away

air cooled

on skin contact

it wakes

fingers reach for the rod

to close the blinds

to rich earth

cut into slabs

of places
we call home