The dark drive home
alone, not quite sleepy
but filled with gratitude
that the ride is not longer;
drifting around the apartment
setting things to right,
restoring order that was upended
before leaving;
the exhale upon the couch,
releasing last tensions
before sleep — this day
was lived
toward this moment.
Toward eyes closing
glad of nothing urgent to do
upon waking. Toward peace.
Dark Matter 