I can’t see much out this window. 24

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.

 

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