Morning (2018)

When through my window the late morning light
Makes pale the passing memories of night
E’re conscience crawls above the aching strain
To give direction to my waking brain
My still half slumb’ring self revolts from day;
Seeking more rest, I cast all care away
For brutal punctuality; to wake
Seems nothing but a cold and cruel mistake.
Even on weekend morns I wake just so,
Lament, then turn my gaze, and better know:
The luck that daytime life to me has brought
Comes vividly into my waking thought
I see you in the pale late morning light
And day seems far superior to night.