Friday Morning, 2 P.M.

sightless I climb from sleeping to greet day
kiss the sundrenched sky and laze a moment
on a soft cumulus couch as my coffee
brews itself black in the magic carafe.
rumor has it this is friday, thank god,
and one workday closer to my day off.
a yawn and stretch capture me as I fall
from the sky to ground myself in today
and its necessities:    bills are due and chores
need chored and the shower beckons wet-cold
wakefulness and moist heat to unclench sore
muscles after wrestling angels and dreams
oddly dark and sinister under daylight
cool breezes and these passing cumulus.


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