Kites of Darkness

.

A coronet of consciousness 

Circles the two o'clock hour. 

Born aloft by kites of darkness  

Drifting on a tether between  

Sunset and first dawn. 

Impervious to the hours past 

Since slumber's onset 

Or morning's impending obligations. 

Driven perhaps by blinking numerals 

It nudges my eyelids open 

And requires an auditory sweep 

Of the immediate environs. 

Born more of curiosity than concern, 

It resolves the darker pools of shadow  

And blinking points of light 

Into the expected dips and edges 

Of what should surround me. 

And sleep becomes an option. 

Unless the wail of a train 

Or the drumming of rain 

Demands further attention. 

.