5 AM

seems to be the time
so quiet
no desperation
like at two or three
when the eyes fly open wide
you have to decide
turn over and try to
recapture precious sleep
or allow the muse in
and let the words come
let them fall
where they may
like tears of salt
make with them
what you will
secrets, dreams, wishes, fears
raw or soothing
you decide
for the next half hour
you’re the captain
like a potter throwing clay
shape the words
make them your own