Solitude

After three hours of sound sleep I toss and turn and finally get up into a room as silent as it gets here in this house, in this neighborhood in this city. Elsewhere on the planet bombs are dropping children are raped prisoners are screaming. With luck, someone, somewhere, cries out in sexual ecstasy. It's a big world with big sounds but silent here at this hour in this house, in this neighborhood, in this city. In this mind. I have things to do to pass the time but later, tired again, I'll return to bed and stretch out, knowing that the best part of the day has passed; after more sleep, if I am lucky, it will be downhill from here. This is the magic hour.