I lie in bed on Sunday morning and resist facing the world and the necessities of life but when I arise I reach for my glasses which turn a fuzzy universe into a form of clarity in which the morning light inspires the floor by the bathroom window curved into the corners of gold rims that pinch my nose and seize my ears to give to my eyes the stubble on my cheek and over the porch in the mirror the feathers of hummingbirds sipping sugarwater distorted in the unresisting corners