three

the house is half awake
at three in the morning;
graciously sedate in cozy shadows.

from time to time
an idea, or memory, kindles
and I am stirred to rise

and cocoon myself
on the mossy green sofa,
to think or write - wrapped, 

snuggled in mother's old afghan blanket.
the lamp unfurls nostalgic
ribbons of light

of long ago, three in the morning nights -
rocking and soothing and comforting:
a baby, a child, a teen.

my mother, then me, in serenity.
for in the charm of the glow,
the whole world is at peace:

in the mellow,
in the quiet,
in the stillness,

of three.

photo:  Three in the Morning - W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke