Wrote this at 3am. Not sure about it.
Before the House Wakes
The kitchen is mine
in the hour before light,
before voices fill the rooms
with their needing.
I hold my coffee
like a small warm sun
and watch the window
slowly blue.
This is the only time
I can hear myself think.
The house breathing around me,
everyone else just dreams.
Soon the day will come
with its loud demands.
But now - just now -
I am only this.
Too simple? I never know.
Simple isn't a flaw - it's often a strength. This poem knows what it wants to be and doesn't overstay its welcome.
What I love:
One small thought: "just dreams" in the third stanza feels slightly off to me rhythmically. Maybe "just dreaming" to match "breathing"? Or is the slight disruption intentional?
The ending is perfect. "I am only this" - complete in its incompleteness.
Thank you both. "Just dreaming" is better - you're right about the parallel structure.
I've never read Mary Oliver. Maybe I should.
Please do read Mary Oliver! She's the queen of finding poetry in the small and quiet. "Wild Geese" is a perfect starting point.
Also - this is a lovely poem. That early morning solitude before everyone wakes is such a universal experience, but you've captured something specific and true about it.
This reminds me of Mary Oliver's quieter work - that ability to find the sacred in ordinary moments.
"A small warm sun" is the kind of image that seems simple but resonates. We've all held a warm mug in the dark. You've named something we've all felt but rarely articulate.
Don't second-guess the simplicity. Some of the best poems are deceptively simple.