Dawn has not yet raised its head
The road is dark, save two cats
who use it as an asphalt bed
Barely visible in lamp light dim
The yard is black save a dead-wood bench
And a stump with countenance grim
And though I know the garden exists
In this non-light, it’s just vague pots
with black silhouettes the sleeping plants.
And while I’m not one to make called shots
I think there is still quite a chance.
Dawn has not yet raised her head
So I might still get to bed.