Poem For A Moralist To Reject

Willingly un-inspired
by the morning, I’m
not above sleeping it out
entirely,

hoping for a damn fine
afternoon once the day’s
early fumblings have resovled
into something more defined;

who needs the worms
those efficient birds work for,
anyway?  I’ve seen worms
at all hours of the day

and night, and the competition
falls off dramatically
later on, once all the obvious ones
are taken.   

The full round of the day
is too often neglected.
I prize it all, and do my best work
when there are not millions

with whom to contend.  So I sleep in,
sometimes alone, sometimes not,
and seem to do perfectly well.
If I am missing something,

it is nothing I feel I am missing.