Day is Done

At night when the house is dark
and I lay quietly on my bed,
my thoughts bubble up to the surface.
If I have time before slumber arrives
I’ll examine those bubbles
and wonder
Do they tell the truth?
Is inspiration a dream meant for sleep
or ill-fated hope for morning?
The cooling breeze from the fan cannot blow the clouds away
to give a clear view of those thoughts that hide in the deep
when the day is bright and busy.