Ode to the late-waking hiker

Mammoth Cave Campground, abandoned at 8 am.

Jen and I are night-people.  I’d like to say that we were night-people, because we sort of assumed that once we were rested and recovered, we’d be rising with the sun every morning.  That hasn’t happened–we’ve kept our nocturnal circadian rhythm here on the road.  You may have noticed that nearly all of our pictures are sunsets.  It’s not a coincidence.

While there’s nothing necessarily wrong with waking up late, we’ve noticed that our fellow campers tend to be the opposite.  I’ve stepped outside our trailer many times to find most of our neighbors gone by 8 am.

The fact that this has happened not just once, but on a regular basis, has sown some seeds of self-doubt.  Like any normal person, I’m attempting to deal with that guilt by writing a poem.  The first verse (or the last?) is below.  Any constructive criticism of the poem–or our sleep habits–is appreciated.

Me and my guilt in some natural hot springs in Big Bend

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