Literature
Sleepseason
In spring For just a little while There is a period between thawing and sleep Where I am awake joyous in fresh blooms dancing in newly leaving trees upon grass But when summer comes I grow sleepy Heavy, slow-footed My focus blurs as the grasshoppers hum And the trees grow heavy with fruit As though they, too, sense my tiredness Stumbling in the hallway The house still as though buried The heat shimmering like a blanket I have to lie down again And all season I will sleep Underneath, a gnawing An ache, constant That even the sweet perfume of nostalgia cannot soothe The memories of roller coasters Clam cakes Beach days Reading in the nook Hanging by the knees from familiar, deciduous trees Underlined by hatred, scolding, silence Stolen As though these halcyon days belonged to someone else Sleepy season Dripping eaves As thunderstorms crash Another nap Another turn Another forced march in the meadow to gather blackberries Then home To sleep again
