From snooze-button addict to morning person.
I know lots of people who do, but I don’t. (Normally, that is. This photo is an anomaly.) The warm shelter of the quilt is too cozy, my body insists on just a few more minutes — and then a few more, and a few more. But those stalwart folk who rule their bodies with an iron will, rise and go outdoors and reap rewards I know nothing about. One of them is definitely the poet William Stafford:
Just lying on the couch and being happy.
Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.
Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it has
so much to do in the world.
People who might judge are mostly asleep; they can’t
monitor you all the time, and sometimes they forget.
When dawn flows over the hedge you can
get up and act busy.
Little corners like this…
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