All in the Act

Today before the sun properly showed itself
(it hid behind the shower curtain waiting on the moon to hand it a towel.)
I levitated from my bed and into the streets
(They accommodated me without shrugging their shoulders about it.)
I passed by, like a million, trees
(this spruce copped a feel from an oak. they then had a tussle.)
Excuse me for living,
but what does one call the morning hustle?
“I call it. . .”
(but it never came, it called in sick, winking at its lover who made pancakes in the kitchen, they had a big laugh about it when morning hustle hung up the phone. It rolled over in bed and stretched out its long legs, grinning at its cleverness.)
I made it to my life on time. For some reason there was no traffic