
What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back
by Roseann Lloyd
you made that cold winter in Montana. Spread out
your paper and books. Tune the radio to the jazz station.
Look at the bright orange safflowers you found last August—
how well they’ve held their color next to the black-spotted cat.
Make some egg coffee, in honor of all the people above the Arctic Circle. Give thanks to the Sufis, who figured out how to brew coffee from the dark, bitter beans. Remark on the joyfulness of your dishes: black and yellow stars…
Now that you’re hungry, toast some leftover cornbread, spread it with real butter, honey from bees that fed on basswood blossoms.
The window is frosted over, but the sun’s casting an eye
over all the books. Open your Spanish book.
The season for sleeping is over.
The pots and pans: quiet now, let them be.
It will be a short day.
Sit in the kitchen as long as you can, reading and writing.
At sundown, rub a smidgen of butter
on the western windowsill to ask the sun:
Come back again tomorrow.








