Sweet quietude, silence of the sky
A burbling fountain
sings to itself outside
Soft glow of lamps,
a place we can be warm,
a well-earned time of peace
upon the farm
Refrains of songs, the words effaced
sing low, beneath their memory
recalling something heartfelt,
some entrancing trace
of moments formative and seminal
And now the bitter tea has left its taste
with promises of sweeter dreams —
It’s time to dowse the lamp and take my place
amid the cushioned clouds of languid sleep.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 11, 2014
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