Sleeping In Nana's Bed
Sleeping In Nana’s
day concludes in glory
beyond the forest wall
suspended on a whippoorwill’s song
a muffled out board glides the narrows
past Hick’s farm
humming its sated fisher home
somewhere a screen door slams
crack, into the gather of night
sharp contrast to settled sounds of dusk
while cow bells soft metallic clang
echoes the way home
for lowing milky cattle, through the wood
fire in the next room hisses greedily
welcome to another meal of logs
a briar pipe taps staccato on the granite hearth
now click lit to quiet drawing sound
the old daybed creaks from seated weight
a coffee cup thunks down upon the arm
nightly news rustles into place
outside again, the bullfrogs
begin their baritone calls
a hungry raccoon chitters on the shore
then loons begin their plaintive calls
to distant cold faced stars
as wind brings a hushing of the night
each sound gathers to me
a cottage lullaby
rest safe and warm
drifting off to sleep
in Nana’s bed.
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