Twelve Hours

Twelve hours,

of sleep,

down,

subterranean.

 

Birds,

insistent and loud,

I did not wake.

Shifting house,

cracking boards, 

seams,

and windows,

I slept on.

Then thunder,

unexpected,

shaking the house,

silencing the birds,

waking just long enough

to remember,

the dream,

of a storm,

floods,

smashed windshields,

impassable roads:

all of us,

surviving.

 

This dream,

one I needed to reach,

taking twelve hours 

to get to,

and come back from.

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