At 4:00 am the street outside my window
Is bright with electric light, Bryant Avenue
The refrigerator is noisy, click, rattle, hum
The floors have a different squeak to them
Deeper along the joists, a bus rolls by #4
Kitty is on her blanket, taking in her view
The wind in the maple blowing, leaves
Gathered by the stairs, there are no rabbits
On Bryant, but there are chip monks
With their striped fur, they are sleeping
She is waiting for them to wake
