I never have much trouble getting to sleep. I usually read for a few minutes or fall asleep talking to Justin. But if I wake up anytime between 3 and 5, I can’t get back to sleep anytime soon. Sometimes I’m just ready to go for the day and want it to be morning. Other times I toss and turn, dragging Bandit with me, eventually turning on the light to read again. I’m not sure what it is about the witching hour, as I like to call it, that keeps me awake. And since I’m really into posting good poetry lately, I thought I would share this:
FOUR A.M.
The hour between night and day.
The hour between toss and turn.
The hour of thirty-year olds.
The hour swept clean for roosters’ crowing.
The hour when the earth takes back its warm embrace.
The hour of cool drafts from extinguished stars.
The hour of do-we-vanish-too-without-a-trace.
Empty hour.
Hollow. Vain.
Rock bottom of all the other hours.
No one feels fine at four a.m.
If ants feel fine at four a.m.,
we’re happy for the ants. And let five a.m. come
if we’ve got to go on living.
By: Wislawa Szymborska, possibly my favorite poet
Sweet Dreams!
Oooh I *love* that poem! Guy and I were talking about that last night – because he keeps waking up at about that time and just tosses and turns (and talks to me, annoyingly waking me up).
Happiness is in that poem.
ps. sweet picture at the top of your blog…