Morning Poem #13

I'm binging on light,
as a platter of sky
spills down Baltic.
Limbs skitter across the room.
And then a feeling
of being dull while dancing a bit
as I wash the dishes.
The people know the caffeine
and disperse in a tight try.
Incredible things will start happening
in here. What would you do if I sang
in the form of a wolf?
My little masky show is huge
and approved by everyone. See: Thurs.
The morning shifts a bit
as a belligerent oil truck
bumps the air
making my skin quiver.
There are great things that pass
on the way now.