I am a lark,
Always up about six.
I always have been like that,
Even when working,
The alarm clock was redundant.
Now well into my retirement,
That time in the morning
Is so special.
It is the time
When words come to me,
Words to be written on a page,
Like those on this page.
I can look out the window,
And see the wonder of nature.
I go for walks and walk with nature,
Walk along My River,
Where My Spirit
Joins its soothing flow.
So yes, my mornings are special.
But what I don’t understand
Is that no matter when I go to bed,
Be it ten or twelve,
I still wake up at six.