Driftwood

Driftwood

I love that hour
that comes every once
in a while
when my wife goes to bed
early, and the children
are asleep,
and I have enough energy
to stay awake into
that hour, and I turn
off every source
of noise, and the dog sleeps
at my feet, and his warmth
soothes my mind,
as I listen
for the sounds that cannot be heard
over din of day,
breathing, creaking,
passing by, taking
up residence, and I imagine
that the earth is still
at that moment,
except for its turning,
which I feel passing
underneath me
like waves under driftwood.