The Ordinary Life
To rise carly, reconsider, rise again later to papers and the news.
To somke a few if time permits and, second-guessing the weather, dres. Another day of what we bring to it--matters unfinished from days before, regret over matters we've finished poorly.
Just once you'd like to start out early, free from memory and lighter for it. Like Adam, on that first day: alone but cheerful, no fear of the maker, anything his for the naming; nothing to shrink from, nothing to shirk, no lot to carry that wasn't by choice.
And at night, no voice to keep him awake, no hurry to rise, no hurry not to.