Day has dawned.
There is comfort in this, somehow.
The cat is looking for breakfast.
He is early and gently enthusiastic.
The diurnal world will now come to life.
I will slowly take my place in it,
In as many hours as I can avoid it,
Because it is still the hour for yogis.
And though I aspire endlessly to be one,
I will not appear to be one this morning.
I would be happy to be a poet-saint instead,
Even just a little bit.