Patient night —

with winking, starless

eye and

half-moon smile —

She conducts

the crickets’ song,

distorted by the hum

from window fan,

by ceiling fan’s

arrhythmic tick…

And,

beneath it all,

the thought-loop whirs,

that well-oiled

Mobius strip of

shoulds &

woulds &

musts &

haven’ts.

Loop and whir.

Repeat.

Night’s darkness thins,

rinsed pale and

watered

by dawn’s soft steps.

Tomorrow —

surely —

sleep will

come.

 

— C.Birde, 7/18