saturday morning symphony

Note: This is a poem I wrote several years ago when I was interested in writing about memories from my childhood. I thought it was a good candidate for the sensory challenge.

as i lay in bed

in the early morning

my little girl ears

perk up

at the whizz-drip gurgle

of the coffee maker

brewing the tempting dark cup

that takes away parents' grumpies

the heater kicks on in a rush

of delightful warm air

echoing and swooshing

through the hollow metal caves

which begin at our wood-burning stove

as my brothers, droopy-eyed

emerge from their bedroom

one thumping the other

into the large firm punching bag

attached to the basement ceiling

just below my bed

it moans, creaks, rattles the floor

i curl up deeper into my covers

listen to the sheets whisper warmth

to each other

press my ear tightly

against my pillow

listen to the muted cotton bounce

of my pulse in my ear

my other ear hears

my dad's voice still gruff with sleep

rumble a warning

as my brothers

stomp up the squeaking

stairs

attracted by the smell

of bacon and the gunshot pop

of grease in the pan

i'm always last to get up

waiting in my warm bed

familiar family sounds

singing me back to sleep