Nothing prepares us for a restless night
We expect — we always expect — to dream
Expect to wake refreshed and stretch the light
But when the air is still and calm and we seem
Unable to breathe inside of it, unable to settle
It always comes as such a surprise, a gift of time
In darkness, a gift where we are left to wrestle
Out the ransoms of the daylight, scrape the slime
Off our psyche, read a book, go for walks, be still
Here is the restless hour, the long night, ticking clocks
Alone in this limping, humid storm-swept swell
To think and think and think until the mind is locked
And the windows finally shut, and night guests ramble
Until their voices stop, after the party, and words untangle
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