Wind decries my progress on this uphill trail—
any ingress I might make impeded by the gale.
Moths whip against my shoulders. Birds soar far over head.
On days like this I feel as though I’d rather stay in bed.
But blessings spiral downward once the sun begins to rise
and another glorious day appears before my eyes.
Dull thoughts dry up in morning light and inspiration dawns—
all struggles of this waking up dispensed of with my yawns.