Sweet sipping sounds
And notes of vanilla bean
Wrapped up in the Monday migraine
With little left to do than lie in bed

But this is not the bother
The warm morning soup fills bellies
Until all senses direct to feet in slippers
Then work boots
Then frigid temperatures

No, not to give into the call of society
But to edit its intensity
To choose not to leave quite yet
To choose to indulge in a sunrise’s delight

We are not meant to leave this safe space
Of brown blankets and lavender
We are meant to cultivate it as a garden
So that we may blossom into a new tomorrow