the pool

there is a draw to the

pull of tired eyes,the

run of streams of thought parallel

to each other,weaving

through the grass tendrils bobbingswaying through the current

somehow or another one is always music

the bed is empty,but silent,not calling

waiting patient on four small feet

wide and warm like a mother bear,but

infinitely cleaner

crickets countless rush by hours while

highway chirps and whines in spurts

sleeping is happening all around,in

houses and beds on the whole street

but maybe somewhere some is not,some

is dragging on like this

ball and chain to the weary body,the

soul is soaring to the stars

through the leaves of the apple branches in a

magnificent gasp for freedom

a nightly swim in the pool of darkand coolbut in a calming way

fireflies dip like fishes,floating,spinning slow beyond control

but calm,always

calm,without the need for care or planning

nirvana seems the apropos name,but

who am i to say it so

but this i know,when i’s and eyes are

heavy,too heavy to go to sleep

i slip away and swim,at night,in

the pool where all the spirits come

relax,and

for some reason,i think

they all are humming all the time