Yes, It Would

Wouldn’t it be a gas some morning
to wake up loose as a goose
in the dew-spangled grass of dream
and not have to dress or fix
breakfast or answer the phone or run
for your life to meet a schedule,
but walked naked as a jay in the bright sun,
ignore newspapers
their headlines of wars and broken hearts,
eat what you want when you want it,
curl up your mind for a nap while
your hands and feet rest on featherbeds
of indolence, and the critic in you
lifts a leg to squirt on nice daisies
or sits on a branch to drop something
nasty on a passerby?