In the early morning

In the early morning
when men scrape dew
from crusty eyes

and flowers hang heavy
from last night's brew
tapped from oaken casks

the broken tasks
of what we're asked
to do but fail

in a hazy daze
and crawl into a cave
an escape from a maze of days

and nights that run on
until dawn, sentences
fifteen to life

unless amidst all the strife
we can pick up the fife
and summon a wife

to shield us from the blast
yielding to no outside mask
but, of course, bring new tasks.