Four a.m. is too early to vacuum.
Or is it too late in the day?
EIther way,
now is not the time.

Throughout the summer
I have no concept
of night,
of darkness.

I cannot recall,
In, say, July,
the look of the night sky,
star-spotted and cloudless.

Maybe some of those
wispy cirrus clouds
attempt to form and
gather for unknown purposes.                    

Now, an early sun
creates hues of pinks and blues
beyond the timeline of my backyard,          
noticed through a solitary
kitchen window.

Dingy curtains part  
to afford this view.
Stringy cobwebs,
forgotten by time,
exist in the periphery.

Breakfast time
at a kitchen table
haphazardly covered
with a cloth meant
for anything else is
The most lonely
time of any day.