Oh… please stop that barking. It’s late. The barking, the never-ending alarm. If it came later, all may be well, I may never need an alarm, the barking could be the rooster cawing through the glossy pane in muffled vibrations alongside the bursts of sunbeams, refracting. But, the barking, relative to the darkness of the night, like a nightmare, leaves me with a worry of impending misfortune. So, please, harness it for a much later time, where I can wake and feel it’s welcoming me to the morning.