I don’t like Mondays. In fact, I despise them. I always wake at 4:30 a.m., mind spinning, gut churning, heart thumping, as I consider all the pesky chores, large and small, that will require my attention as soon as the sun rises. All I can say is, “Thank God for poetry,” which calms me down, reminds me to breathe, helps me remember I have plenty of time to get it all done. Here’s the poem I listened to just now, Coleman Barks reading Rumi’s “I See My Beauty In You.” My favorite line: “We become these words we say . . .” I feel better already.