. . . and several of my friends. In honor of my birthday, here's a poem my sister once sent me. A Morning Poem I woke early one morning, the earth lay cool and still when suddenly a tiny bird perched on my window sill ~ He sang a song so lovely so carefree and so gay that slowly all my troubles began to slip away ~ He sang of far off places of laughter and of fun it seemed his very trilling brought up the morning sun ~ I stirred beneath the covers crept slowly out of bed then gently shut the window and crushed his little head ~ I am just not a morning person.