morning

Morning. Hmmm. I sit, bleary eyed from staying up too late last night but not wanting to go to bed earlier but I'm not sure why. I'd like to be a morning girl, up with the sunrise, bustling about, preparing for the day. But, the mornings come slowly, unless of course, I wake up too late, touching the snooze too many times, feeling the warmth of the covers and the softness of the pillows. This morning, I'm on the porch listening to the birds as I write, coffee warm and feeling the coolness of the air around me. I've never been too much of a morning lover-not sure why-most often, the days prove to bring thoughts and experiences unexpected so one would think that would bring an excitement of what's to come-right? I'm wondering if I would be different if I lived in the city? Would the noise of the city beckon and encourage me to join it? Would I become the morning girl?