Six O’Clock in the Morning

Something akin of the 20s with 70s flare

Was oft’ attached to an Iraqi Chevi ;

For summer comes but once a y’ar

and beckons youngins to scream out, "Weeee!"

Too much fun can nature afford

the luxury of sleeping bags be well endowed

To pillow a dreamy mind betold

Of sheep to count in fields un-ploughed.

And on that wooden plank he turned,

Nestled firmly in what felt

Like mother nature’s warm, firm hold,

He slept where tarp folded ‘round the plank, taut.

At 6am, right when a rooster would have crowed,

He cried out with open eyes. All other campers groaned.

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