Aubade of Gratitude by Katelyn Wang (17, California)

The sun chose 
to rise
today,
how kind. 
Dampness always
strikes
my eyes 
when I’ve stayed 
past midnight,

---

​but 
at least 
I got more
paint
on
the canvas
during those
gentle hours.
Or is it 
because
I woke up
after
the birds have 
sung
their sun anthem—--
missing it 
is always 
such a loss.

Mother’s breakfast,
steamed buns
now
for three days in a row,
but always 
soft as 
rolls
of 
endless cotton
with pale sunrises.
I am 
grateful
for
how gently 
the sweetness 
fills me
and my
stomach.

Like homely
milk
stuffing
an empty 
cup
with 
marshmallow
white—--
a thankful
color.

The clouds--
puffs 
of white
and
light 
pink
and dusty
yellow--
like splintered
daffodils.
Barely
able to
use 
their 
wooly fuzz
to blend 
the
gracious
Sun.