the shovel awaits

you could sleep
another hour,
easily
this Monday morning.
you could
linger
here, in the hot
bath,
the paper
and coffee,
the phone off
and blinking.
you could stay home
and read,
or write, you
could stare
out the window
as others shave
the ice
from their cars
and drive
away.
you could do
that, but you wont.
the furnace of
your life needs
more coal
and the shovel
awaits.