night

Night

Another night sleeps on the floor. Some night riding
Creation gleans the last dew off some distant lurid leaf,
As if some strange twisted night butterfly has not gone asleep.
Heed no nightly noise, you exhale, barely heard. The words
Flow gently, some smooth curl of smoke, and draws the curtains,
Draws me from my small, creaky woody cave.
Leave the door open, I say, leave it open. Agreed.
Your shadow closes some light, for awhile,
Then clears again, yellow light peeking out onto my cheek.
Snuggle into cotton-smelling sheets, puffy like clouds.
Snuggle into warm silent sleep.