too wild to sleep

it’s almost 9 p.m.,

and there is one single bird
singing
like the sun is about to rise,

a song out of place,

or perhaps
right on time

for a world
that has forgotten
how to dream
at night.

i smile
and cheer her on.

keep going,
my love.

be all that i dream
of being.

perhaps
it wasn’t a bird
after all.

perhaps

it was a word

too wild
to sleep,

too brave
to wait
for morning.