First in a Series of Poems about Autumn of 2005

August 29, 2005
Got up at five minutes to six this morning to make blueberry muffins in my bathrobe

A departure from routine
and not something I’d ever imagined doing
until I found myself doing it
since I rarely depart from my morning routine in even the smallest detail
Well it emerges that
making muffins while still bound in the blurry half-awake state of early morning
is surprisingly difficult
yet peaceful
Of course making jiffy muffins is simplicity itself and
as long as I kept my eyes on the task at hand
the glass mixing vessel with its red markings, the blue and white box
the brown egg, the cup of milk, the wooden spoon, the muffin tin
(the same tin our wedding cupcakes were baked in, I did note)
I could proceed just fine
But every time I looked up
or away
at the trash can, the light switch, Bill,
the bleariness intervened

Afterwards in the shower
I realized
the thing that gets my eyes open and working
in the morning
is rubbing my scratchy green washcloth over my closed eyelids

Then
because I’d gotten up so early
I had time left over after Bill left for work
(because of course
the reason I made the muffins in the first place
was that today was his first day of school
as a brand new teacher
and the only ritual that could approximate my immense pride
was the Watson family tradition
lifted, not surprisingly, straight from a novel
of muffins on the first day of school)
So I made the bed and did the dishes
and was shocked by my own pleasure in doing so
Even scrubbing the gritty crumbs out of the muffin pan
while trying to avoid splashing soapy water on my hot pink loafers
was somehow
full of satisfaction
and leisure

image source is here