Man Sleeping by Morris Graves
silent mornings make no sense
every waking needs noise
clocks and coffee pots
birdsong and bone creaks
the cough up of phlegmatic dreams
so this silence must signal I’m dead
unless it just means
that it’s not quite yet morning
for soundlessness perfectly
suits my insensible nights
(originally posted October 2013)
Writer Lynne Sargent
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
Poesy plus Polemics 
Oh my, I don’t remember this gem–WOWZA! Waking is my least fave part of the day–doesn’t matter what time it is, the transition never goes well.
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me, too
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So sorry to hear that.
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Reblogged this on CRAIN'S COMMENTS and commented:
I can really relate to this!
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers, vic
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