I awake to the midnight morning
of sleepwalking
the thumping of my soul deep in the
morning twilight
children slumber under their
dark covers as I emerge
from dreams of hope and despair
under my bittersweet tongue
their slumber
and mine
expectant and hopeful
anxiety ridden in our own way
blessed am I to unfold
during the AM hours
of morning radio
cold floors and
oil black
coffee of the watchman’s variety
alive to hear my strange thoughts
and my children safe but for a moment
as I sleepwalk
in darkness