i wake but try to sink
the world with my eyelids
my body tries to blend
with the ripe springs
and stained pages
of our hunt
for forty blinks
my resting mind
questions what the sunlight hours
stretched and uneasy
will expose me with
i plead with the firelight
return to the dust
there always seems to be a hare
in his lost-button pocket
ah how sighing smoothes
softens the mood
and smiling eyes
bend the spacious air

a few moments more