Dawn rose early, eager
as a squirrel crossing against traffic on a busy road.

Her mind wandered over breakfast:
a couple of eggs, sunny side up, went down in a hurry
surpassed only by the alacrity of her exquisite exit strategy.

Dawn’s first stop was pre-empted by a go ahead call
from her meddlesome boss and his reiterative reminder
as strident as a repetitive remark, and as imperative as a double negative.

She settled in for a taxi ride to temerity, bit her tongue, held her breath,
and exhaled long enough to tell him exactly why she would be late
for his early arrival.

He blew his stacked deck on cue and shuffled off stage followed by
an outburst of irony and a retinue of diminutive minions, peeling away
yet another layer of sophistry with their abject adoration, much to Dawn’s
growing consternation at so blatant a display of sycophancy.

Later that day, after the abortive business meeting met an untimely demise,
all the office staff assembled like a colourful Christmas pageant, with ready-made precision,
to receive further instructions, and await an imaginative response regarding exactly
what to do about the missing peace that threatened the fluid movement
of the intricate mobile of their synergy hung with fair advantage
for all to see. 

Dawn rose to the challenge, eager
as an ebullient red rose budding against a sable trellis on a sunny morn.

Her voice hovered over the boardroom table,
settling on policy and fact to underscore
a warranted strategy, a credible denial of culpability,
tempered with ample supplies of tact.

Unresponsive and irrevocably adrift on currents of apparent motility,
her colleagues skirted the edge of disapproval
like an isolated clutch of skaters surrounding
an abandoned island on a frozen lake.   

Dawn continued, unflustered, settling into the groove
of the group mind, and set the volume of her voluble voice
against the grain.  Her insistent tone was a needle
rounding down toward the end of a vintage record
on an inspiring song. 

As she edged towards her elaborate peroration,
her argument became the loneliness of the long distance runner
striding with a second-wind toward the finish.

Fighting back the pain of denial and recriminatory betrayal
was as easy and invigorating as rising to the surface,
lured by the bait, bit by the hook
and hauled to the ice for a sound bludgeoning.

Knowing all this,
Dawn still rose to make her earnest appeal, eager
as a lake trout
fighting on a late December reel,
as real as the fact that death is a bright beckoning door to destiny.

Epilogue

The next day, Dawn rose early to scan the want-ads, eager
as a gleaner wise to worldly ways, and intent on what was left.