Morning Breaks (2)

Often, not wanting to disturb any other with the restlessness of my dreams, I spend the night on the downstairs couch waiting for the darkest hours to peel. Eventually, always, they do, though some nights feel longer, darker, less willing to recede. Last night was such a night.

Yet.

Morning came. The swamp heat of yesterday rinsed off by rain and leavened by a breeze. Each day advances its own possibilities. Today I will try to write a page.