Morning song is dawn and gray and cool and black.
               It’s six a.m. or five to five
               But you’re not sure just where you’ve been
               And you feel gray and blue and black.

There are thoughts
              And five (to five) or six of them
Aim at where you are and show the distance
              To where you want to be.

Morning song is done.

Morning song is fog, maybe not, and the owl
              (or whatever is living in your roof) knocks repeatedly until
There is nothing left to do but stay eyes open