Recently, I seem to be waking very early. One morning when I checked the time it was four minutes past four; it occured to me I should be writing a poem with the line “4:04: sleep not found”. 
That idea didn’t seem to go anywhere, but here are a few pre-dawn lines:
awake again at 4 am
birdsong weaves around the house;
the chorus swells and fades
in fugal waves of sibilance
to spin a spell that teases out
the softening grey.
don't confuse the narrator 
Welcome to the 4 o’clock Club – so many people wake at this time and a little dose of World Service does wonders for getting back to slumber! http://www.sylviakent.blogspot.com
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Mentally drafting poetry can be marvellously soporific – counting iambs rather than counting sheep!
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