Little Hours
Lying heavy in my bed I hear the murmured whimper of a son lauding his hunger in the darkness and, opening one eye, see the hour—3 a.m. I will arise, hoisting my heaviness out of the warmth of my bed, to keep this vigil, to be a comforter, to invite another in.
-K.K. Adams
Karen K. Adams is a graduate of Cornell University.
