concerning the morning

Concerning the morning, I'd sleep right on through
and not ever see it or drink in the dew
but for some silly reason I cannot explain
my eyes fluttered open without any strain
and in the position I happened to lie

I could look up and take in clearest blue sky
the window was open, the sweet smell of spring
wafts in on the breeze while the birds sweetly sing
I could easily remain here and let myself drift
but something inside calls for more of this gift

I pull myself out of that place of soft warming
and sit on the edge of clear consiousness forming
Still in my flannels I pull on a sweater
slip into my clogs and now feeling much better

walk down to the door and out on the deck
these babies need planting, I say, what the heck
dig into cool dirt, without much of a care,
and plant my petunias in the flower box there.

I let my mind rest as I breathe in fresh air
the rising sun filters through forests back there
I remember the 'red sky at dawn' weather warning
and ponder the beauty concerning the morning.