The simple act
of throwing cups of cold water
hurriedly, several times
over the head and shoulders,
when taking a bucket shower,
is nothing I look forward to
in the morning.

An equally boring activity
is the simple act
of shoveling forkfuls of food
almost mechanically
into the mouth
with stainless steel fingers.

But the simple act
of gazing into your eyes -
across the small circular island
holding the steam-spewing thermos,
and the yellow and white eggs
silently sizzling beside freshly baked bread,

at that time in the morning
when the birds have just started
the second round of greetings -
is pure happiness