, , , ,

daffodils on desk

Bright light filters in through the blinds
But the sheets are cool, inviting
The body reclines, book in hand
To sleep or not to sleep, that is the question

The afternoon quiet is a shroud
Pierced by the cawing gulls
The clock ticks audibly inside
Grains of time leaving the granary

There are daffodils on the desk today
And gleaming leaves outside
Scattered thoughts flit through
Of past and future, and a line from Tennyson too

The daffodils are the lingering image
As the mind slows down, the body, breath,
Hungry sleep claims them all,
And the grains too — gently, irrevocably