Up early
to take out the trash
and to write.  

It’s too easy to say
those acts are 
similar.

Recycling
is a part of 
each, of course.

It’s too easy
to draw
such parallels.

It’s too early
and too easy.
Instead, let’s talk

about the welcome scent of 
spring skunk in the dark
when I was at the curb.

Let’s talk about
the city’s voice
at this hour,

reduced to 
what sounds like
breaking waves.

It’s always too easy
to find my subjects
within.  Let’s talk instead

about anything but that.
Alive this day
before dawn — still alive!

So humbling to be able
to walk away from the house
bearing a week’s worth

of what I’ve been able 
to discard,
paying attention,

choosing
to be fascinated
by all that remains.