Out listening to the birds before sunrise, gazing up through the shadowy scaffolding of the greening trees as I walk, I am witness to the natural cycle of waking and sleeping according to the light, and its restorative, medicinal benefits. Artificial light, clocks, television, alcohol, caffeine — one must wonder about a race of beings that works so uniformly and effectively against itself, that sees sleep as an obstacle, and rest as time wasted.
I did not finish my nest today,
but I will in the morning — after I sing.
May 4, 2019
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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces
William Michaelian 