Morning Discussion

Will eyes on Saturday open?
I think these lids are broken
Sticky with a touch of slow
Waking with a touch of ‘no’
Where are my feet?
I’m not complete!
The floor demands a meet and greet
My legs
Still life with covers
That world
Outside, it hovers
Must I leap to the conclusion
That I seek the day’s inclusion
And reject my sleep’s seclusion
Oh good grief! So much confusion
I might risk a head contusion
Debate inside me billows
I must seek advice from pillows.

Greeting

Through a window it came
Golden golden streams
A winsome warmth
Freely given with open rays
Says the morn to me
"Here I be.
Drink up."

On the Wings of Noise

It seems that the morning has broken
It seems like some black birds have spoken
They woke me from sleep
With fowlest of screech
I hope on some worms they'll be chokin'.

wb