The moon is high in the western sky
But a hint of dawn pales the east.
I turn up the collar of my robe against the
Coolness of the morning and once more
ponder the punctuality of the urge that
awakens me in the early hours.

Faithful Venus, like a single spark from
the embering moon, is the only visible star.
Lights are on in the apartments of the old.
The body reminds us of our mortality,
waking us after too few hours of sleep
as if to say, make the most of the time left.

—Elaine Parkin Akin