Fairy Godmother by Jennifer Novotney

Maybe one day, I will have a fairy godmother
who will wake me with the comforting aroma
of freshly baked muffins, the windows thrown open
on the hazy morning to dissipate the sweet scent
that always gets me up just a little early
like opening presents on Christmas day.
Her blue, checkered apron around her waist
a bit of flour powdered across her cheek
she’d sing under her breath quietly
as if she thought no one else could hear.
She’d take sips of her magical morning brew
out of her rose covered mug with the pink handle
and vines that wound around the base, the red petals
at the top where she’d place her lips, the hot steam
of the liquid fogging up her glasses.
She’d laugh, play it up, pretend it was the fog
that rolled in at night, covering the ground
with its thick clouds so sometimes, we couldn’t leave
the valley’s basin, and all that was visible
were the roses climbing up the trellis on the back patio
their red lips singing through the cool morning breeze.

Jennifer Novotney holds an M.A. in English from Northern Arizona University. Her poetry has appeared in Buddhist Poetry Review, Poetry Quarterly, and The Vignette Review, the latter for which she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. In 2014, she won the Moonbeam Children’s Book Award for her debut novel, Winter in the Soul. She grew up in Los Angeles, California and lives in North East Pennsylvania with her family where she teaches English.