Night Hours

It’s Sunday morning - early.

The kind of early that feels almost ungirly.

I’ve been awake since midnight, maybe one.

My sleep has been so strange lately -

Feels like I’m under the gun.

There’s something about the world being asleep...

that helps loosen my mind

Something about the silence that makes those ideas feel less blind.

Time moves differently at night -

slower, softer, kinder.

Still, no dark knight in sight.

It’s almost as if no one will find her.

I’ve always thrived in these hours.

when the sun hasn’t yet asked anything of me.

Though I do not quite understand this expectation the sun brings.

I do yearn for just one more fling.

Maybe that’s why I hide in these hours.

Hidden between all the flowers.

Waiting for my ideas to wake up.

Maybe after just one more cup.