A September Insomnial Evening

cottage in the forest with starry night sky

Another sip of hot, honey-sweetened chamomile tea. More clock ticks, and the hum of the refrigerator. Soft light from the new stainless-steel ceiling fan illuminates both the walls’ yellow eggshell finish and the golden brown of our “Grandma’s” table.

If not for the hour, this could be morning.

But it’s not morning: it’s half-past eleven at night. In less than five-and-a-half hours, the alarm will sound. But here I am, sipping my cooling tea to soothe my restless mind and fatigue-ached body.

A nameless grief groans within, but my effort to listen to it gags it. And images arise again, the same revolting, enticing ones that so often do at times like these. When sleep eludes, while time passes.

Deep dark even on Sunday night highway traffic

Photo by Cloris Ying


Frank J. Tassone

Frank J. Tassone lives in New York City's "back yard" with his wife and son. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His haikai poetry has appeared in Failed Haiku, Cattails, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Contemporary Haibun, The Haiku Foundation and Haiku Society of America member anthologies. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he's not writing, Frank works as a special education high school teacher in the Bronx. When he's not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, meditation, hiking, practicing tai chi and geeking out to Star Wars, Marvel Cinema and any other Sci-Fi/Fantasy film and TV worth seeing.

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