SURRENDER TO EARLY MORNING
Sirens and the whine
of eighteen-wheelers
paint daybreak
with wake-up calls.
Sounds that weave
their hurry
fracture restful sounds
of night.
I waste little time
becoming absorbed
in front-page headlines
so as not to hear
the wails and whines
of highways wrought with racing.
I succeed until
the fast-moving freight
from Dallas
intrudes upon the storyline
of what I read.
Then, I acknowledge defeat
and surrender my tea leaves
to the morning.