Seven long hours ago, I saw the sun
sprawling on my lawn, with no real need
to notice it beyond that night was done.
I watched it creeping up with no real speed.
I hadn’t dreamed. No work today. No cause
to roll out of my bed. I’m staying home.
Yet still it crept, according to its laws,
and still I lie here, all ‘not brushed’, uncombed.

Should I go out and see where morning’s gone?
Do I care if all the world is cooler
than I am, in my blankets? Is a yawn
all I need today? Or’s sleep the answer?

Seven hours from now the moon will creep.
But I won’t know it, being fast asleep.