Freedom of Discipline

Open my eyes to my morning.

It’s still dark and cold.

I can see my breath.

 

Slosh through fuel to get me going,

throw on rubber soles and cotton covers.

Running round, I can still hear the crickets.

It’s quiet. Either too early or too late,

whichever way you look at it.

 

My breath, like smoke, breaks the silence.

In, out, in. Cough. In, out, gasp.

I sweat, then freeze, but it’s okay.

I like the feel of cold shivers;

makes me feel like it’s all worth it.

 

The sun rises, turning the clouds pink and orange.

My surroundings stir as the day breaks,

but I’m already awake.

 

As my colleagues stumble to their beds,

or grudgingly fight through the rays

I’m ready. Ready for anything.