Imagine you awaken with a second chance.

     The blue jay continues to hawk its pretty wares,

          And the oak still stands, spreading glorious shade.

               If you do not look back, the future never happens.

How good to rise in the sunlight,

     In the prodigal smell of pesto and eggs on toast.

The whole sky is yours to write upon,

     Blown open to a blank page.  Come on!

         Get up!  You will never know who’s down there

              Poaching those eggs, if you do not get up and see.