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Hours Before Dawn

I often wake in the wee hours, and sometimes in my sleepy fog I think it's already morning.

Implacable thoughts

Like a slow dripping leak

Like the drone of an alarm
just out of reach

Too persistent to let me sleep

Too soon, I think
morning has come,
and rise

The steady trill of rumination follows me
through a mirrorless house
to a set of drapes

Taking a breath, I throw them aside
bracing for too much light

But what greets me is stellar beauty

An expanse of dark
broken by moon
broken by star after star

Broken by more thoughts

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