swimming to the top
I wake up underwater
break surface and breathe
Daily battle to wake up.
Struggle to the surface, forcing my way out of the depths of sleep.
Claw my way.
Kicking.
Break through the water and into a gray day and fight to stay a float.
Or.
Hands together above my head.
Fingers pointing straight.
Body twists as my legs flex and feet paddle.
Knifing through the water.
I porpoise out of the water.
Into the sunshine.
Water drops dazzle like diamonds.
Hand closes into a fist raised over my head.
“NOT TODAY!”, I shout.
To nobody but myself.
(NOTE* I was listening to the radio as I typed this. By chance, Richard Strauss’s Sunrise from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1896) was playing on the radio. Unexpected moments like this are the Oreo’s in your lunch bag that someone else put in there for you.)
No Haiku For You 