April 21

Reveille By Request

My son greets me in the morning
singing in sun rising operatic tones,
“Good morning to you!”
He descends the stairs, his notes clearing
my early morning fog with each step.
His arms stretch to the musical
heavens, ruffled hair not
slicked back like the tenors
on TV, no tux or cummerbund
awards event, but the encircling song
of my boy’s hug.