Benefits of an early-rising job.
The Shawangunks are part of the Appalachian chain and The Sleeping Giant, a ridge that looks like a man asleep on his back, has watched o'er the Catskills for centuries.

Sunlight glinted on the windshield,
Reflected in the pond;
Took me on a fantasy ride,
The here, now and beyond.

The S’wangunks lit with fire
By the early morning sun;
The cliffs in stark contrast
As the new day has begun.

A cloud beyond the mountain range
Is a fuzzy blanket, deep.
The sun fights hard to
Awaken the ‘Gunks from sleep.

The Giant lays upon his back
And wipes away the tears
That sprinkle on his legs and chest,
As he’s done for many years.

Oh, some would like to sleep ‘til eight,
And then go punch the clock.
I would rather leave my bed
At the crowing of the cock.

For when old Sol peeks o’er the ledge
And beams forth a new beginning,
To squander this magic time
Is the same as mortal sinning.

I’d rather, in the afternoon,
As much as I can dare,
Take a wee nap on the porch
When the sky is bright and glare.

Although the rising of the sun
Is as common as the dirt
From which new life does spring,
Oh! ‘tis of precious worth.

For even tho’ my neighbors
And workmates think I’m odd;
I awaken early in the morn’
To see the face of God.