Sounds of morning,
Crickets,
Light traffic,
The toilet,
And none of them
Have any inspirational power.

Sleep has been too deep
Making waking so very hard.
The grind keeps coming,
It’s regular requirement
Forcing my attendance,
So I drag myself from the bed’s grace.

Only to strike out looking for motivation
In whatever the dark morning
Has to offer.
Today, the bugs, buggies, and the bowl
Offer nothing, but their shallow companionship.
“Coffee, stat…”