perfect morning

sun trickles through the open window
like ice cream on a hot summer day
warming my lazy eyelids
and welcoming my blurry vision to the world of light
as i sit up, the sheets tangled around my legs
and hair sticking out in all directions
as the dead flies on the windowsill
dance in my line of sight
my head swims a bit 
as if it believe it were still in dreamland
talking with the fish and blowing bubbles for the dolphins
as my feet make their weary way to the small panes of glass
framed by a bright white metal trim
and the open air that spills from it
i stick my hands out
so that my fingers may dance in the breeze
and play with the wind
twining its strands of perfect nothingness
into a braid of light and wonder
watching the hawk take wing from a nearby tree
each tawny feather a masterwork of pristine elegance
and the harsh beauty of nature
letting my empty stomach be filled by the golden rays that are cast opon 
i awkwardly squeeze myself out of the window, and onto the roof
my entire body encased in warmth from the sky 
and wrapped up in a blanket of breeze
so it doesn't get too cold
on this perfect morning.