January Morning

I awake from petty annoying dreams
I only remember by my displeasure.
The cats hover like birds of prey.
One side of the bed, empty now.

I lie in the dark, waiting for me to get up.
The bed barely needs making.
Opening the blinds, I watch
The back yard slowly assemble itself.

White sunshine emerges
In a gunmetal sky.
The world grinds into operation.

“You don’t have to do anything,”
The minister said.

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