The Final Yawnings Of Rest

The whole day makes sense.
Waking early and moving.
Automatically the mind begins work.
Attending to the entire body.
The final yawnings of rest.

Black coffee alerting the still asleep.
New news seems about the same.
Shootings and stabbings in the land.
Creeps giving people the creeps.
And easy money for all.

Kick back and recline.
These minutes are the most important.
They tic tic away.
Daily they tic, the minutes of our lives.
Making time to use or waste.

Intentions are only urges, good or bad.
Plans are different.
Calculated deliberately.
Nothing too haphazard.
The risk, determined to be worthy.

If only boredom could talk.
It would convince us all.
To go.