Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove
BED IN SUMMER
—Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
__________________
THE ROAD
—Russell Edson
There was a road that leads him to go to find a certain time where he sits.
Smokes quietly in the evening by the four legged table wagging its (well why not) tail, friendly chap.
Hears footsteps, looks to find his own feet gone.
The road absorbs everything with rumors of sleep.
And then he looked for himself and even he was gone.
—Looked for the road and even that...
____________________
WHY DO YOU KEEP THOSE CATS?
—Judith Minty
All winter, those cats of mine
doze like old women in front of the fire,
curl their fur around saucers of sunlight
they have trapped on my rug. Sometimes
they bury themselves in the wool of blankets
to sniff dreams I left there.
Awake, their eyes reflect deeper sleeps.
Delicate tongues yawn, hide needles of teeth.
I listen for their soft paws,
for their purrs to rattle in slow circles
near my bed. They want to capture
warmth from my body. "Why do you
keep those cats?" my neighbors ask.
Why? It is for summer that I wait
for their claws to unsheathe, for their eyes
to blaze orange in dark hallways.
Soon they will tear at my door, howl
to walk with lions along the fence.
It is not for winter. It is instead
for the flame of yellow moons.
Then I run wild with them,
hide in trees, sleep again in leaves;
in August I will sink my teeth,
as they do, into the warm necks of mice.
__________________
—Medusa (Did you remember to spring your clocks ahead one hour?)
—Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
__________________
THE ROAD
—Russell Edson
There was a road that leads him to go to find a certain time where he sits.
Smokes quietly in the evening by the four legged table wagging its (well why not) tail, friendly chap.
Hears footsteps, looks to find his own feet gone.
The road absorbs everything with rumors of sleep.
And then he looked for himself and even he was gone.
—Looked for the road and even that...
____________________
WHY DO YOU KEEP THOSE CATS?
—Judith Minty
All winter, those cats of mine
doze like old women in front of the fire,
curl their fur around saucers of sunlight
they have trapped on my rug. Sometimes
they bury themselves in the wool of blankets
to sniff dreams I left there.
Awake, their eyes reflect deeper sleeps.
Delicate tongues yawn, hide needles of teeth.
I listen for their soft paws,
for their purrs to rattle in slow circles
near my bed. They want to capture
warmth from my body. "Why do you
keep those cats?" my neighbors ask.
Why? It is for summer that I wait
for their claws to unsheathe, for their eyes
to blaze orange in dark hallways.
Soon they will tear at my door, howl
to walk with lions along the fence.
It is not for winter. It is instead
for the flame of yellow moons.
Then I run wild with them,
hide in trees, sleep again in leaves;
in August I will sink my teeth,
as they do, into the warm necks of mice.
__________________
—Medusa (Did you remember to spring your clocks ahead one hour?)
