Sleep and Waking

July 3, 2014

At rest he lies, the spinning thoughts of day

On the turbulent surface of the outer mind

Are quieted, peace ushers them away,

The drowsy eyes that ever seek to find

Are closed as dreams begin to softly steal

Upon the sleeper in his house of clay,

Opening out on worlds that seem more real

Than the eclectic incidents of day.

And yet to wake to sky and morning's call

With hummingbirds and noisy geese a-flight,

To see the oaks and maples in the fall

Is joy more real than escapades of night.

Life burns in him beneath a burnished sky

As flames the heart of one who would not die

But lives in gratitude and walks towards light.