I never was an early riser.

But to be woken by the sun,

With cool white glow against heavy lids,

Was a waking dream of mine.

I never was the morning bird,

But instead the proverbial worm,

Devoured by the feathered thing

Who’d risen with the sun.

I long to be the eager flower

That blooms at dawn’s first breath,

To experience what happens then,

When sun bursts from horizon.