Sleep itself seemed a hot blanket, to be shrugged
aside: a sluggish gesture, not quite successful. Half awake and able to hear a
glass of water calling, a cool clear note of antithesis.
Irresistible is forgotten, though: the stairwell
window, undressed, shows the world as though swallowed, lost in the belly of a
ghost.
-Oh yes, a glass of water.
For a few hours, the heat spell is broken. Settle
under a better sleep.
Beautiful photos --scenes slipping in and out of consciousness nearly-- and poem. Yes, poem: "Settle under a better sleep." I've never seen four words joined more smoothly. My compliments.
ReplyDeleteYesterday I read in a book by a naturalist skeptic describing waking before he was ready as 'trailing sleep behind him like a comet.' It sounded sooo Lily Tequila to me.
ReplyDelete*Takes a bow*
ReplyDeleteThank you, thank you. It felt like a poem :-)
Loving the phrase 'sooo Lily Tequila'
Somewhere between proud and giggly right now!