that moment, when
sleep begins her retreat
and I become aware of
small movements in my body
and my eyebrows begin to rise,
trying to convince my eyelids
to open for business,
when I begin to
thoughtlessly engage my mouth
in instinctual warm-ups
in anticipation of food, and
my toes wiggle to say
we are still here—
now get those legs moving
and I adjust my covers
and ponder a return
to sleep and I realize
I’m making some sounds,
not quite snoring, carryovers
from dreams, not yet
human language,
when the neighborhood
birds sound off in celebration
of the sun, and the hopeful
glow from the top of my curtains
greets my squinting eyes, then
comes the moment of decision–
to wake up, rise, and enter this
other