Insomnia Poem by David Wood

The clock reminded me it
Was 3am, then belled 4.
The chilly street was silver
With last nights rain.

A maple tree outside
Was still sleeping under
A silver crescent moon,
Dawn was not yet awake.

I heard an owl complain
As a fox strolled past looking
For breakfast under the glow
Of a dim street light.

I knew it was 5: 20 as a voice
Reminded me of gales in Sole,
Shannon and Fastnet followed
By the news around the world.

Dawn yawns with a gentle
Breeze blowing nights cape
Away, but I am very tired of
This infernal insomnia.