Quiet late hours have arrived. Peaceful days leave me dead asleep.
Silence settles in the house. My son lies in bed, asleep.
The days have started to change, yet not solstice or equinox.
Water satisfies. Walking runs out heat. I feel defended, asleep.
Medication gives a conversation about politics a placid look.
Being alone reassures. In the stern lies Jesus, exhausted, asleep.
Poetry has made a fragile cord between us that I can pull.
Fear has become less strange. Will I leave my life unfinished and sleep?
If demons want to lurk in the shadows of every corner, they can.
Just the grave returns me to God's side, to float in the oceans of God's sleep.
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