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Magill Walk, 5:38 am

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

written May 11th, 1996