Autumn Day, 5:30 a.m.

Clouds from a mackerel sky race in front of the setting moon,
portending rain; the sun has not yet risen.
The dog dreams at the garden door, front paws twitching,
tail wagging.
He is Mighty Dog,
vanquishing the mysterious foe -- a coyote? --
he could only warn us about, loudly, at 2 a.m.
Our daughter still sleeps, but M. is already well into his day.
Outside, three cubic yards of dirt stand in the back yard,
awaiting dispersal into the garden and various planters.
There will be essays to read,
math notes to prepare,
German vocabulary to study.
For now, there is only the smell of coffee brewing,
and a promise I made to make spicy potatos for breakfast.
These moments of domestic tranquility.