Morning Raga

Starts slowly, like getting the legs

over, out of bed, and, hopefully, 

there is coffee or something.

Getting up is hard….especially

when you have to. Too foggy to

know if there is music, which is why,

if there is some, it cushions the process

of having to do it again.

That’s one way to see it. Another could be

just a human flow of continuity into the next

day, that arbitrary increment of life, the way 

we break it down. Must we? It seems so.

So, once we are up and can hear the music,

whether there is any or not, we rote our way

into the rut. Or, we do not. The big question

is do we have a choice? The answer is yes,

because of the music.