Casual Paralysis

Last night I had resolved

to wake up earlier ‘tomorrow,’

as if the world revolved

around this time I borrow.

But for hours, as I lay,

sleep just would not have me;

I envisioned this delay

pushing breakfast back exactly.

Reacquainted with the daze

that morning will deliver,

I found I could not raise

my head or heart or liver.

The torpid suffer too,

yoked oxen in the sun,

wanting as we do

to spryly rouse and run.