Wake Up Call

Wanting the sun's healing touch,
the pain
in my right knee
wakes me on cold mornings.

I get up,
see the face of morning
in the rising sun,
hear the voice of dawn
in Las Vegas' collective yawn,
and taste
the sun's warm kisses
in hot sips
of black coffee.

This poem is also posted in the journal Writing in Snow, under the folder Awardicon Items, in my writing.com port. I am Prosperous Snow.