Today is a day like any other: twenty four hours, a
 little sunshine, a little rain.

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
 one boot to another---why don't you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth, I don't want to let go of the wrists
   of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,
   I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

  ---from Black Oaks, by Mary Oliver