Monday Morning Alarm Clock Poem by Danny Robbins

The sun rises,
the birds sing,
a kettle whistles it's early tune.
Who will you be this monday morning?

The cloudy grey sky,
awakens you to the prairie fields.
Planted with seeds of reality; rows of doubt.
Harvested by fears come true.
The mill of our minds are filled.

Yet,

The world bows to you.
Our cup runs over
when you open your eyes.
A cool breeze runs through your hair.
The park grass is soft.
Trees make good chairs.
The bark of a dog and a child's laugh make a symphony of sound,
if you dare to listen.

And you realize,
this is not a shallow game.
There is no goal, no reward.
No cards to make tommorow come.
Only a set of dice,
waiting,
willing to be rolled.
Under the grey prairie sky.