My sleep is like

pearls
on a worn string

slipping down the line from one
hour to the next

of jewelled slumber but in between
a frayed cord of anxious waking,

hot turning, grasping for a lifeline that
my sweaty touch disintegrates, dreams

clattering to the floor
and here I am again, awake

~~~

The fabric of the world

in the hammock
in the shade
in the clearing
in the woods

with me
a small mosquito, two birds nearby
a shushing wind

the bleats of sheep
car on the road
woodpecker knocking:
rooster crows

30 feet above my head
four maples meet and swing their greens
in a blue sky the sun shines through,
a dappled pattern on my knees

the buzz of bees
the smell of hay
in the hammock
in the shade

the fabric of the world
envelops us
in the clearing
in the woods

~~~