Early In The Morning
While the long grain is softening
in the water, gurgling
over a low stove flame, before
the salted Winter Vegetable is sliced
for breakfast, before the birds,
my mother glides an ivory comb
through her hair, heavy
and black as calligrapher's ink.
She sits at the foot of the bed.
My father watches, listens for
the music of comb
My mother combs,
pulls her hair back
tight, rolls it
around two fingers, pins it
in a bun to the back of her head.
For half a hundred years she has done this.
My father likes to see it like this.
He says it is kempt.
But I know
it is because of the way
my mother's hair falls
when he pulls the pins out.
Easily, like the curtains
when they untie them in the evening.
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Comments about this poem (Early In The Morning by Li-Young Lee )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
Isabella Valancy Crawford
(25 December 1850 – 12 February 1887)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
Edward Kofi Louis
(13th October 1961)
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