Retinas on waking crave the sun’s warm rays upon their backs. Without the radiance of day, the messages they send us speak of early morning weariness And skin cells cry, small children, at being ripped from bed too soon. They know the signs of night and long for rest until the sun’s day heat sounds its alarm, shakes them awake. Yet sleepiness pervades the day; it will not wake. It hibernates in sunless daze and hides behind grey conglomerations in the haziness of winter sky.