I'm up because it's the longest night. It happens this way each year. I'm sure that it is mostly self-fulfilling prophecy, but "it is what it is."
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So I read.
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Online poems by local poets (Tacoma, Olympia) and those farther afield (Pittsburgh, Tallahassee) because the internet does not distinguish the distances.
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The songs of Hannah (1 Samuel 2) and Mary (Luke 1). Similar songs of the Lord lifting up the lowly and poor, while sending the wealthy away from the table.
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The final book in The Southern Reach trilogy, Acceptance, by Jeff VanderMeer. I'm drawing out this latter reading because I don't want the story to end.
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I hope that sleep will soon arrive. I hope that I will not dream.
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