Sleep has been elusive of late, taking time to settle in and then briefly staying before fleeing away, over the fence.
The birds have begun. The tiniest wren with the loudest voice starts early.
I had closed the window before turning in as a gesture of defiance toward the noise that interrupts my slumber. The confinement is troubling.
Other than eating, drinking or walking the dog my entire day is spent in this 12 x 8 foot room. I get out of bed and sit in my desk chair to wait for bedtime.
I have to open the window to let myself out.
This is all so wrong.
Malachi calls (I think it is him … it could be Ambrose, I guess)
‘There is nothing for you there’
‘Over here, over here’
And even though i understand what he is saying … i pull the covers up to my chin and try to get back to sleep.
1 for sorrow
2 for joy