Morning

I fought all night with sleep –
or it with me.
It was a dance through burning dreams
into waking worries
that seemed like nightmares.
Then, about an hour ago,
I drifted into deep,
fur-lined,
feather-down sleep
that loved me,
nursed me,
molly-coddled me,
until the alarm clock,
like Jonah’s giant fish,
plucked me from the deep
and spat me into morning.
It’s a beautiful, golden morning,
but it’s cold and demanding
and I want to go back to sleep.