Lovely morning

Tiny hearts are circulating in the air.
There is beauty outside.
I am watching a magpie on the branch.
Some stars are still winking
in a dark Prussian blue sky.
This kind of late brumal cold
might indicate the coming spring.
Others are still sleeping.
They could be better
if they could leave their hungriness in bed.
The sarcasm might be a friendly butterfly of the morning.
I cannot answer.
The confident raptors ate my response.
Okay, let's switch on myself,
and I try to ignore the fact I have to bear that
I am human. 
It is always the worst part of the morning.
Being in the same skin,
And realise I still have the same shape.
Now, the only hope is tomorrow morning,
When I might not wake up,
And will realise nothing.