3 am - up,
Disturbed by dreams and things that are not dreams,
Rambling window to window in the cold house,
Startled by a sudden, reflected glow along the stygian road.
In a froth of snow, the plow, lights flashing,
bucks the storm.
Back to bed - calmed,
As when a child awake, afraid and lonely in the wide night,
The whistling train at the crossing charmed me back to sleep.