Poems in a Hurry

After lying in a fetal-like position most of the early morning,
I take advantage of the daylight
to protect my feet
and get out of bed.
A glance at the clock and I know
that there is barely time.
And yet I read the news,
watch the sky,
revisit yesterday's writing,
and wonder how long those pinkish-purple blossoms will last.
It could rain.
I know
there isn't much time

Not a good idea to hurry poems.