the night had grown old and morning
crept across the lawn – tender tiptoes on wet grass
breezes teased dew from trees- woke slumbering flowers in their beds,
and me, as the cobwebs of dream
clear to greet her coming
no desire to go from outside to
inside – no desire for the musty odor
of things in need of dusting and
things that occupy space and give
little in rent when
outside, out here, it’s all connected.
Did you ever Sleep out side
02 May 2012 Leave a comment