Magill Walk, 5:38am
Misty shrouded green
And the tiny birds play
Chirping all the while
I sit contemplating sleep
Fog rolling in
Over fat squirrels
High in the tree tops
Shaking branches and leaves
Slight buzz on
From the night up
And the sounds still
In my head
From the night before
Done all done
With the work
Now thoughts still
Drift in and out
Of my consciousness
I sit alone
On the steps
Of my home
And I think to myself
What a time this has been
May 11, 1996
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