morning light

Early light pools onto a table
covered in coarse farmhouse linen
and the crumbs off of a loaf
of hand made bread. Right now,
anything is possible:
I could be
your lover or the mother
of a great historical figure.
In this light, the jug I keep water
in could become the great grecian
urn to tempt future poets.
What stories
will these relics tell about me
when the archeologists come?
What you decide when you read
these lines, when you watch me
after waking, before taming
my hair, is the truth only
in this morning light.
And this light
will be long gone by that day.