As I savor that first easy transition from night to pale dawn,
I leap out of bed and wriggle into the 19th Century,
already setting the scene with storm und drang, the sense
of sea or prison or some aspect of colonial life
in Van Diemen’s Land in 1842.
Mac and Deidre now deep in the angst of their own morning;
my body becomes their bodies, bruised and shaken,
far from home, lost to each other by convoluted
plot twists. By 7, my cheeks hollow out.
Coffee made quickly.
Granola poured in the first bowl I touch.