Sitting with cups of coffee ready to hand
While the birds have barely begun their chorus
And other creatures stalk near-silent
Through the lifting darkness
I read
I write
Neither as much as I might like
Both as much smiling as remains in me

I am a thief
And prodigal
Taking more such moments for me than is likely my due
Spending them frivolously and to no good end
But I have asked no inheritance
Even if I might have to herd swine
And I am the elder brother, anyway

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