Wordle 123: The Rude Awakening


Here is my poem for this week’s Sunday Whirl challenge.

The Rude Awakening

As the sun filters
through the trees
and south winds gust,
crows swoop over the yard
with bitter cries.
The dogs wake,
and unable to filter the noise
into categories of harmful or safe,
they spring from their beds
barking non-stop,
sounding fierce and defensive
until I cry “Enough.”
Unable to pick up the pieces
of my dream, I climb out of bed
vowing that today I would
keep my promise to train the dogs.