The Gift of the Night

The skin sees the shape of heat,  

fans only make the charcoal glow, 

the metal gate is like the sole 

of an iron, I put ice cubes 

on the bed the dogs lie on.  
 
As I sleep, the night exhales, 

cools the water in the plumbing.
 
Upon waking, I splash my face, 

and it is a bristling comfort.

I shut my eyes and treat myself  

to what is like a morning prayer.
 
It is warm after a while though,  

I exhaust what the night provides  

in seconds, but it is enough,
enough to face the day with.