The Long Moment


The children are sleeping –

at last the day’s heat

fuming up from the earth

trembling the sunlight,

has exhausted them

each their own spread position

bodies like butter

out against bedsheets

one sideways hair foaming outstretched

surely tying dreams together

another’s arms make a k from his body

everything he’s dreaming

he gives to gravity

the last opens his arms above him

an asana acceptance of rest

as if he knows one day – like me – he will stay awake

to sit and write a poem about his small ones

and they take their turn to sleep

while the evening’s heat subsides

and summer clings to the long moment.


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