At an absurd hour of morning,
I find myself doing the dishes.
I distract sleep with happy music ,
and she quits tugging on my eyelids
long enough to listen.
I am conscious enough to watch
the sun kiss the mountains,
and dimple the cool blue night flesh
with bright grassy valleys
and crags come out of hiding.
The clouds blush.
After painting a half-assed mandala,
sleep weighs too heavily on my back.