Insomnia
She told me to be still, that the sun was still hours away. I'd asked during one of those sleepless nights that stretches on like my parents' farmland when I'm standing on the hill closest to the road, watching a mile of soybean plants roll into a cornfield, then bump across those tall stalks before washing over a line of pine trees and finally scattering over open land. Even the lake way out there, filled with catfish and bass, spills seamlessly into a white puckered sky.