Rio Grande Nature Center State Park
The desert outside Albuquerque keeps its dark.
A low lamp waits near the chair.
The clock turns its face away.
The body wakes before the morning.
A thought asks to be solved now.
The breath can make the room smaller.
Leave this question for daylight.
Keep one hand where your breathing can find it.
Morning rarely agrees with midnight's conclusions.
Insomnia, menopause sleep problems and nighttime worry
Along Albuquerque’s bosque, cottonwoods filter the first light while river paths stay cool and spare. Dawn offers no instant answer to a wakeful night, only proportion: another hour arrived, the body kept going and the world became larger than the room. A question can move out of the dark and wait for daylight, paper, conversation or care.
Letting wakefulness belong to morning
A hot wake-up becomes a sleep argument, a sleeping partner triggers fear, and tracking turns into surveillance. Rest, simpler patterns and daylight questions make wakefulness information instead of emergency.
