Garrison Keillor

4 a.m.

The need of solitude 
Is basic, like food. 
Teachers, preachers, 
All of God’s creatures, 
Mothers as well,
And health personnel,
Farmers, writers,
Former prizefighters,
Require periods of silence
When a phone call is a form of violence 
And a knock on the door is sheer mayhem. 
So I arise around 4 a.m.
And I find it very pleasant 
That nobody else is present: 
Coffee, paper, and a pencil, 
All that are essential.
I hear the chirping of the birds 
And in my head, a flock of words, 
So many lovely ways to say: 
Thank you for another day.