A Brewed Awakening Poem by John F. McCullagh

4 A.M.- it’s much too early
It’s no surprise I’m feeling surly.
It’s cold outside and lacking light.
It feels like the middle of the night!
(When you’ve been out late and had a few
Mondays are no friend to you.)
Villainous clock that chirps and chimes
I’ll hit your snooze button one more time.
Its cold, and someone stole the covers
I reach for them as for a lover.
Alas, my larcenous spouse has taken them
I guess I’m in for a brewed awakening.