Winter Morning War

Time tenses, gathers itself then springs the alarm into the cool morning air. My free thinking herpetological left hand creeps out from under the covers and strikes the alarm silent. The rest of my body begins its morning battle of conscious against subconscious.

“Wake up.”

“No.”

More insistent. “Wake up.”

“Leave me be.”

Now its pushy. “Wake up!”

Petulance joins the field. “Don’t want to…”

Responsibility evens the odds. “Come on, don’t want to be late for work.”

My traitorous legs make their move, sliding out of the warmth and flopping to the floor but not before kicking back the covers. Consciousness wins this round.

I can’t wait for the weekend, when sleep will have its day again.