A quiet place, cozy
nest before the tree begins
to quake in life’s wind.
98
My pond is clear now.
The mud the recent rain stirred
up has settled down.
99
Love, expect the worst:
from the tree in all its leaves
one must drop off first.
100
Restful lullaby,
cannot soothe and lull my brow.
Sharks are in sleep’s sea.
114
Sleep, the softer bed
I lie in, has its sandy
dreams and cracker crumbs.
117
Nap
Day’s parenthesis
around a timeless time when
blankets feel alive.
134
My sleep is, after
sailing all the raging seas,
drowning in a well.
158
Love lies drowned below.
It would not float alone – and
I could never swim.
164
Cold sidles crab-like
into my room, creeps into
my bed, bites my sleep.
186
®Copyright 1966 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.
From Poemystic.com