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You'd think,
she thought,
that a white night--
eight hours of hazy sleeplessness--
would put you right into
the space of the unconscious,
leading you down, down and deep.
Not the case.
In fact, the opposite.
Not in the palm of the unknown
but in the grip of shallowness:
shallow breathing,
shallow thoughts.
What to do?
The markers of the unknown litter the path
but,
sleep-deprived,
she lacks the energy to retrieve them
and the clarity to imagine their meaning.
All right, stay where you are,
she concedes.
Stay right there in the matter of this day:
blue Scylla all over the rock garden
or robin awakening the maple tree
or spent blossoms blizzarding to earth
or whatever the dawn will bring.
Just remember that
no matter how stunning the day's gift is,
tomorrow it will be gone:
Hey, presto!
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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