We are sleeping

The hazy Moon rests on us

A moment, restive, like all round things

 

The weak rain

Pats the dead leaves down

And they, exhausted, flatten

And quilt the ground

 

We are sleeping and will not wake

Even with moonlight on wet earth

That shines dully, not allowed to light

Dismal air, or brighten our dim memory

 

Water finds sleeping nymphs and drowns them

fondly, the same way lovers kill

Let’s pretend we have awakened

 

We are sleeping on the old ground

The waning Moon rolls

Our tiny gravity into pretense

 

A small grove of trees, moonlit wet leaves

The time is long past when we would not

Notice the chill, the dark, the slick slide

Into the shadow of a vague setting moon.

 

We are sleeping.

Let’s find a small dry home

And admire what things we may

The mist, the Moon, and the smell of a fire so far away

 

 

 

©2017 Donald W. Hayward