Sleeping in the Middle of the Day
Someone has turned up the earth.
Gardens grow wild at the end
of the street, where so many cars
lie about unused. Cats prowl
in the shadows, and when it rains,
the ground softens into mud.
I am asleep in the middle of the day,
lost and useless in the blue chair.
Somehow my hair has changed.
Without my knowledge, one eye
has gone blind, or has turned
inward, away from the world.
I dream of birds – pigeons nesting
under bridges, a pair of young
hawks on the fence in my yard.
When I wake, night has spread
across the sky. Air tastes of leaves,
and frogs and feathers of owls.
"Geese in Flight"
Photograph (detail) by John Oughton.