Wind blows through my bedroom walls.
A heater not hot enough,
on a floor not soft enough.
Two pillows,
one comforter,
and a crook in my neck.
Arrested limitations as I wait in hesitation.
Sleepy eyed leg exercises meditating to the sound of ferocious beasts.
No begging.
No pleading.
A slow breath and a deep relief.
One hour of productivity.
Only six more to go.
This isn't my goal, but it is my aim.
Tomorrow it's twelve.
Maybe the next is sixteen.
Who needs sleep?
I'll do that when I stop to breathe...
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