There is a river
that runs through my sleep,
its surface a mirror
that only shows
what I haven’t said.

The banks are lined
with willow trees
bent low,
as if listening
to something older than rain.

Some nights
I find myself barefoot
on the mud’s cool tongue,
and I watch
a paper boat drift by
with handwriting I almost recognize.

The moon leans down
and brushes my hair
like a secret
learning how to speak.

When I wake,
my hands are damp,
and the pillow smells
of moss and iron
as if the world

Entranced by a midnight  haunt and its veiled scene,
a moonlight glow evokes the thoughts I truly mean,
asleep or almost drowsing yet I pen an ode,
in dream filled phase the sentiment in subtle code

analogous to seventh heaven lee delight
this two thousand and twenty five
listed in reverse order of events
lastly spoke over the telephone
Courtesy Creative Health representative and arranged
to become linkedin with a recovery coach,
to acquaint myself videlicet unnamed person
eleven thirty post meridien
September twelfth at Ott's Exotic Plants
nearly spent the one hundred dollar GIANT gift card
from generous staff members
at Saint Mary's Church
40 Spring Mt Rd, Schwenksville, PA 19473
ala (king) lee St. Vincent de Paul Society

The morning has a clear voice,
it speaks in weather patterns,
of gestures human mirroring,
rain, sunshine, gusts. skyline,
day and night expression on,
an earthly visage everywhere,
each event its own deep-lyric,
a bright start connoting bliss,
wet and windy heartfelt cry,
howling gust irritant inside,
star and moonlight content,
with itself for some reason,
or another so  mystifying,
interacting with this world,
is shrewd advice no doubt

On my left ankle there is a raised welt of skin
As long as an inchworm.
It has stretched and grown with me over the years
Since I was six and loved Top Ramen
Ocean blue soy sauce flavor.

My mother liked to break apart the noodle packet
And one fell out onto that ankle
Singing and cementing my love for convenience food
With a kiss.

I recounted the tale to my mother one day
As we reminisced about past sorrows.
She told me that my scar was the result
of my skin getting caught in a shoe zipper
When I was three.

One evening, when the husband came home,
     From the mowers and the plow,
He started to grumble and complain,
     (It was his custom, you know.)

For the cow had not been put away,
     And dinner was still a-frying,
And to be sure, across the floor,
     The baby was loudly crying.

So he then did say, “I work all day—
     Nay, I work and work all day—
But you in ease do as you please,
     Always at home you stay!”