daybreak
five twenty-two, a.m.
and my cursing at my longest nail now broken
is heard only by the newly lit sky
so these thoughts,
like those four fifty-three raccoons,
unsettling the stable sense of wanderlust
awakening ever-steadily all these mornings
when i wonder if you minded
that i called you; sometimes, i
wonder if you’d keep me up
for a long drive home…