Most likely the day has arrived

I did not sleep last night

before dawn I watched
the changing light
through bedroom curtains.

From a cold dark gray,
the soft folds of cloth grow
and lighter while
my heart

I stare at a single point
of gold
it’s the size of a pencil eraser
in a field of gray and beige
most likely a porch light across
the busy street.

The tiny light is the only spot
of warmth.

It draws me
yet I cannot gather the
mental energy to do anything
other than just stare

The tiny light

Most likely the day has arrived.