Praise to the early risers who unlock
the doors at 4 a.m., create
lemon blueberry crumble,
orange raisin scones dunked
headfirst in sugar,
oatmeal cookies stuffed
with cranberries and pecans.
Praise to the splash and sizzle
on the grill, smells rising
from childhood¹s deep cache,
when you entered the kitchen rubbing your eyes
and your father kissed you
over the top of his Times,
and your big sister looked ridiculous
with her milk mustache.
Your mother turned to greet you
as if you alone were the sun
while eggs burbled in her pan--
praise to the succulent yellow yolks
that were not yet broken.

From Yaya's Cloth, Iris Press, 2007.
Used with the author's permission.