from the threshing floor – 6

i long for sleep,
that fickle former lover,
who used to welcome me
as a bequeath

but now avoids me,
or if, under cover,
it is some other set
she’s underneath.

and so i drive,
in body and in spirit,
across whatever
roads, however far,

and leave a tune there
for whom haps to hear it,
that might just bring some sleep
to where

they are

I Really Should Be Sleeping…

I really should be sleeping, but
I hard ever really do,
A thing not unexpected,
Given age

For I’d observed for many years
That sleep’s the province of the young;
And so I’m not surprised, now,
At this stage,

That I am an insomniac
(of a peculiar kind)
I get to sleep okay, but then,
Am wakened by a mind

That’s into problem solving, and
Gets up before I do;
And back at work before
A half-night’s sleep is even through

I really should be sleeping, but
That just is not my destiny:
The road I’m on’s the one
I have to take

But though I’ll walk the earth today
And wear my open eyes,
I do not think I’ll really
Be awake

One Tired Cat

My morning conversation with myself.

That cannot be my dang alarm.
I’m not sure where I’m at;
I just lay down, I swear I did,
I am one tired cat

Just give me four more hours,
Make that six. No – make it eight;
A little bit of napping, and
I’m sure that I’ll feel great

But ugh. The sun is coming up,
And I’m a stupid prat:
I need to go to work, but man –
I am
One tired