3:30 AM by B.C. Marshington

3:30 AM

The night is still chilly enough
To be direct and unceremonious,
To be enjoyed straight, black, neat,
Undiluted by gossamer's milk droplets.

Cold, crisp light is flowing out of
The round hole punched in the melting dark,
Like the song of a restless bird
Breaking through the wall of conifers.

Three cheers and a whistle.
Four cheers and a flourish.
Five cheers and a trill.
Silence.

Then it starts all over again.