The birds insist I get up
and greet the new day
for they will give me
no rest – their symphony
erupting, as it does, into
the morning sub-conscious
strata of my oh-so-happy-
to-be-in-a-warm-bed mind
I jump up like a ninja
I’ve still got it!
and fall gracefully
back into the warmth
Sunday beckons and
I will get up – just
not yet, not now
but the birds insist
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