It is always in
the deepest holes of the night
those moments just before
the sun and long after
this little orange slice has gone to bed
that I walk the empty halls
of this house and wonder
what is next.
These anxious moments
so full of potential and promise
buzz around me such that
I can barely sleep.
But when I do and then subsequently wake,
I am as dull as the previous morning.
What I would give to bottle these
nighttime bees, open them
in the morning,
let them sting me to greatness.
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