Queen Of Roost

She treads on padded feet
before the light trades gray for yellow.
Queen of the house, toes upturned,
she wakens the kitchen with gentle hands:
makes windows yawn,
bids bacon turn over,
drips puddles of golden batter
onto stovetop all black and hungry.
She deposits the fluffy coins in piles
then bends to gather crawling babes,
toddling elementaries, crusty-eyed youth
into arms wide and safe like wings.

Until finally they fly, birds from cage,
eyes bright and soaring,
leaving behind Mama at nest,
greeting the gray light morning.