The moon has risen and our shift has begun.
We night owls hold vigil in the resident room.
Our attending bought us dinner, as we were overrun.
After the rush, time slows to a freeze.
Inside the rooms, patients breathe with ease.
As our eyes scan the monitors, there is nothing new to see.
In the lull we watch reruns on the unit’s TVs.
For some, the night shift is our creed.
And the floors are quiet in our sanctuary.
The only sound is the hum, buzz, and beep of machines.
Only the cry of a pager could break this reverie.
We await the new day with tepid glee.
Hoping to leave our shift with a sense of victory.
Midnight hour has begun, and we covet its mystery.
Poetry Thursdays is an initiative that highlights poems by medical students. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.