TICK-TOCK ~ HAIBUN

It's 3:00 am and I'm tossing and turning
in thoughts of verse. Outside a crescent moon
peeps through a stratocumulus haze.
My husband, snug as a bug in the land of zzz,
snores up a symphony as if composing a new
style of music. I trudge into the kitchen in
slippers and robe to make a pot of coffee.
All is quiet except the pitter-patter of little feet
scampering across the attic floor. Insomnia
must be contagious. I turn on the TV and
wouldn't you know, a program about insomnia
channels the air waves as if they are watching
me through the screen. If only Murphy could
see me now! The rain outside pitter-patters
in unison with the drip-drop of the coffee.
I reach for the Nytol and take a sip as a
visitor curls up in my lap.

Night echoes
the tick-tock of
little feet

At quarter to five I stumble half asleep to the
bedroom as birds announce the dawning of day.
After the overture, my husband rolls over and
gently wraps his arm around me. As the morning
light seeps through my curtain, darkness never
felt so content.

Daybreaks glow
Morning dove
of darkness

© 2002 Karen Davies