Night of Leonids

His snores
keep me awake.
I lie there with my eyes
open, body aching,
waiting for sleep
to fall.

My thoughts keep me
awake. Will the baby wake?
Will he need to eat? How much
time do I have
to sleep?

Outside, meteors are
streaking through the sky.
I see nothing.
I am up. I look out
windows. But I don't see
any sudden fireworks of
starlight.

I want to go out,
walk down to the lake
in the hopes of seeing
comet debris hit the Earth's
atmosphere, of seeing
falling stars to wish on.
To wish for sleep.
I lie back down.

The words keep
me awake. I debate
getting up to write them
down. My muse is so
fickle in these days of kids
and work and responsibilities--
more fickle than even
sleep.

The cat keeps me
company, happy to
be up, nocturnal. He
purrs and rubs and follows
me. The house is
silent and dark. I've
written the words. Maybe now
I can fall asleep and dream of
falling stars.