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,

Slowly,

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.