School out, I lay on my bed. My temporary reality.
Taking a break from the accumulation of social stress.
In and out of a somniative state I would hear birds.
Mocking birds with their comprehensive repertoire.
Eastern Blue birds with a delicate lighter tone.
The faint collapse of rose branches against a window.
The breeze through a dusty screen,
Rustling against my exposed motionless finger tips.
In the distance I could hear
Two large wild cherry trees. The
Leaves rubbing back and forth.
This symphony of sound would propagate
Into my light sleeping state.
The leaves clinging onto what life was left.
Fading in and out of sleep I
Dreamed of distant memories of the day
And the day before. They came with ease.
The future was near and far.
I thought of a time with friends who would be gone
Someday. I thought of early crushes.
Girls who liked me or I might imagine they did.
Nature was a lullaby and a reminder.
How good childhood felt.
I did not think of spring as having a beginning and end.
It was a minute that borrowed vestiges of my day
And laid a warm path of this light across my chest.
I awoke to a fit of supper smells and time.
I was stifled awake in confusion. Voices.
It felt like life would better fit into tomorrow now.
Spring sounds and air rearranged my sleep.
My soul changed, temporarily refreshed.
In the afternoon on a tepid day I lay.
Awake in a typical position.
Mark, 1996
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