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A quiet morning like this,
so as not to wake you or
compete with the newly risen sun,
I turn down the sound on the television
to watch the early news.
I realize, when today's pretty
anchor
directs at me an appropriately
sympathetic glance, that I need neither sound nor
footage of a weeping family and
needles attached to a little girl
to know that she tells me of a local
child's fight with some disease,
and where I can send money to help.
The camera angle changes and
now she's somber,
her head tilted a little forward,
pinched mouth betraying disapproval
and concern for the safety of us,
her viewership,
and I understand that the city's
suffered its 126th homicide.
After the commercial break
she's back with a triumphant smile,
bordering on a full-out laugh,
and I know that the local college
football team has continued their winning streak.
It's on to traffic and weather,
but I imagine after the broadcast, when she returns home
to her husband who has not cleaned the kitchen as promised,
and let the dog track mud onto the living room carpet,
she will not say a word,
but pierce him with a look,
at once both scolding,
and with a hint of the moralist
between her brows.
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