Brownout

Brownout.
Black actually.
It is hot and sleep cannot
descend on me,
not when the heat drives it away.

I hear the thunder rumble
far away,
and the clanking of the chain
around the old dog’s neck.

Far away too
is the music of a party
that won’t accept
its cause is lost.

Oh well,
the night is deep
and sleep is miles away.
Let it come when it so desires
and bring with it cool breeze.

(Photo by Krista Mangulsone on Unsplash)