The Morning Sun People - Jan 21 2022

 

The Morning Sun People

Jan 21 2022

The two tribes

who occupy this building.

The morning sun people

on the east side,

who forget to lower the blinds

and are awakened early,

blinking in the unforgiving light

that streams in horizontally

through floor-to-ceiling glass.

And those facing west.

Who have leisurely mornings

over steaming coffee

and fresh croissants.

And then, at day's end

gather on their balconies with drinks in hand,

taking in the setting sun

as it drops into the harbour

in a brilliant reddish glow.

So pick your side,

be one with your people

and all you have in common.

Who, like you, may have very well forgotten

that there is more to the sun than they see.

And that there are people

who live across the hall

living vastly different lives

in diametric light;

who'd be shocked at the darkness

in your benighted apartments.

But we never cross the hall

can't imagine knocking.

Don't even stop and talk;

just nod politely

encountering each other

on uncontested ground

in artificial light,

in the lobby, perhaps

or checking our boxes for mail. 

Who knew

that every day

the world was reborn

in glorious sunlit mornings.

Or on lovely evenings ended

in orange, pink, and rose

crimson, fire, gold.

I suspect my descriptions favoured the sunset tribe. Because the last thing I am is a morning person: I know which side of the building I'd want to be on! Since I've always lived in a house, though, I get 360 degrees of exposure. No closed door and blank windowless wall along one entire side, cutting me off and hemming me in.