Grandfather struck a hard four
And woke me from a sound sleep.
Fortunately, drifting back into slumber
Was easier than most nights.
But then a poem hit,
And my brain woke, and went into high drive!
Wearily I looked at the window.
A three quarter moon was seeping in
Around the edges of the shade.
I lifted the shade and was flooded by its light.
It swept down over chimneys and roofs
Still wet from an earlier rain,
And was chasing mists rising from a ground fog
That was covering streets and yards
In secrets and mysteries.
Sleepy eyes ...