A man goes to work in the dark.

Halogen headlights cold and dim

He sits behind the wheel

fiddling with what

I can’t see

Cell phone?

GPS?

How I remember

those dark mornings

staggering across a frosted driveway

still cocooned in a fragment of dream

grateful for the half hour commute,

time to assemble

How I sped through

the morning routine:

yoga, meditation, shower,

breakfast, making lunch.

I grabbed my school bag,

left before 7.

Now I peer out at the car

below my window

where the man shuffles and settles

I hear the motor hum

Sense the resigned breath he takes

as he shifts

into drive.