laying in bed,
insomnia gnawing at the backs
of my eyes,
i note that the darkness
isn’t black
or inky
or truly all that whole.
its thin,
dimmed colors coming through,
just dimmed and faded
browns and blues,
shadowy tones overtaking the room.
perhaps the sun rises
sooner than i thought.
Poem. Published in Red Wheelbarrow Vol. 22, 2018.