O quilted sky,
drape gently on me,
here in my shallow darkness.
Before the moon is high,
let me in as nightfall’s
shadow soaked image
becomes secreted
under such a fine cloak,
and this day, which has seen
all there is to see,
is hidden underneath it all.
As I lay crying, I will remember
not to wish or want for it all;
sadness is what it is –
but, because it is nightfall
where no one can see me,
I will share my thoughts
before I dream
to the edge of sleep –
and until its frayed corners
sift the yawns of sunshine
and covers this bed.
No doubt, I will rise refreshed
on my bleak horizon,
and watch the morning’s
soft dew dissipate
with tears still in my eyes
as I try to escape with it
into the air’s naked light –
where birds, half lit, wake
to congregate as buds on boughs
with fingers spread to
temper such glowing
melody; their songs will echo
the stirring winds ’til this full chorus
becomes the daylight of each new day,
and, only then, can I be tempted to breathe it all in.