Ode to 2-Hour Delays
Dear sweet email,
sent at a bright and early 5 in the morning
who is greeted by my parents with a groggy groan -
but to me, you are no groan-able sight.
To me, sweet email, you are
a beacon of light, shining and bursting with hope
A white flag, waving high, sent through the barracks
of the endless war between myself and school’s 7am start
declaring a delicious delayed departure
for myself and my sisters.
You grant me the gracious gift
of turning over on my pillow,
setting my alarm to 7, and swiftly getting back to dreaming.
You instill upon my day
A day that cannot be anything but great, grand, perfect
For that day is shortened, and starts at 9.
Oh, two-hour delay, you are as rare as a four-leaf clover
but as welcome as a long-lost friend on my doormat
each time you choose to stop by
you will never be turned away.
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