2:33 am

We could write poetry
into the wee hours of the morning.

My wife and me and the candlelight
bouncing off of the walls and off of the ceiling.

We could keep our pens moving
until the amateur farmers wake up and do their morning routine.

We could write lines like, "why is there no
such thing as a timeout button on the refrigerator?"

We could write lines like, "the creek is looking more and more
like a river than a creek."

We could try all night until the amateur farmers
finally wake up. The hum of the milking machines doubles as an alarm clock.

We could do this, we could.

There will still be time to warm our cars up
and to get our coffee ready.

-C. Binton