He wakens with the birds and begs me to join,
Exuberant, racing down the stairs to grass,
Midst scatter’ing squirrels and pre-dawn cooing doves,
His happiness unbridled, life’s a gas.
Reluctant, I begin with aches and moans,
His spirit wins me over every time,
All grumpiness now gone, though old bones groan,
As long as Bandit scampers at my side.
For mornings, though routine, seem new each day
Suppressing newscasts filled with doom and gloom,
His fervent focus: chew treat’s on the way,
And panting at the cupboard door his ploy.
With tailbone wagging, wiggling as he waits,
Joy unrestrained, as expectations rise,
He bounds upstairs, a-twirling, gleeful gait,
To top of bed, to wait for his surprise.
His early antics done, he finds my lap,
I sit and sip, he snuggles fast asleep,
Supine, relaxed and trusting as he naps,
I’m awake and he is dreaming deep.
You ask how I endure this daily trial,
How rising with birds can be okay,
I say: it warms my heart and makes me smile,
No better joy and mirth to start each day.
My Bandit reads my mind (or so it seems),
His wide-eyed happiness the stuff of dreams.