A motorcycle rests on its side; a semi blocks the lane.
Paramedics huddle while emergency vehicles scream for an opening through traffic snarled for miles.
Temporarily inconvenienced, I will go home and eat Chinese takeout with my family
While someone else’s evening spirals into horror with a squeal of a tire and a blindsided swerve.
Sunlight spills through windows, onto my morning table, warming my book and easing me into the day.
“Morning has broken, like the first morning, blackbird has spoken, like the first bird. Praise for the singing, praise for the morning, praise for them springing fresh from the Word.”
~Eleanor Farjeon, 1931