Insomnia is cherished little except for when: I feel the cool breeze while sitting on the porch up on my little hill. Four deer pop out from the woods, cross the street, & have a little snack of the neighbor’s green lawn. Coyotes yip & yap & howl somewhere in the distance. The train, about a mile away, races down the tracks & the horn goes off & off & off.
I think I will make coffee (with whipped cream & chocolate sauce) & read my book. Life is so simple, so perfect, when the rest of the world sleeps (although I wouldn’t ever wish not to see them all rise in the morning, get the paper from their doorstep, & rub their eyes at the unusual sun).