Five O’clock

A steady ritual starts at five when the sun barely shines
A somnolent rise despising time’s constant ticking prompt
Make haste, don’t be late, chop-chop, get up
I lay aestheticized
In a numbing malaise, moxie escapes traverse my mind
Til pungent aromas inspire my rise toward a closer destination
I linger, sipping dark-roast indulgence
Til time tick-tocks chop-chop
Prompting a grittier caper along steel rails
With well-tailored companions
Bumbling inaudible tidings
Consciousness buried in modern devices
Streaming a serener existence
These soul-searching moments I partake
With traveling mates
Click-clacking along dark tunnels
Arriving at dusk-to-dawn destinations
Til five when the sun barely shines and the ritual rewinds
Inversely, I arrive at a homier destination
Hoping perchance, tomorrow’s a better day
Copyright 2017 by E. Denise Billups