Sleep

At three a.m. I awake to a cue
as reliable as any alarm
shaken from dreamless worries, I stir
nudged by an invisible hand, or sound
same as last night and the night before
The cycle continues for five or six days
and on the seventh day I sleep

On shadow days energy replete, actions repeat,
colours unseen, faces I love to gaze on
now blur, tiny frowns unnoticed
I am wired, running on habit, so tired,
Desperate for the day to end
Light to recede, jarring noises to calm
Muscles untense, legs unache, guilt abate
Heads to dip and so to sleep

In that dim starry hour, alone with myself
I pad barefoot to the open door, nose to the screen
Wrap myself in a jasmine breeze
warmed by the heat of the earth in the field below
Sprinklers spray, and I listen to the jay, haunting
a seductive warning among the rustling carobs,
Moonlight reflects off black plastic covers on bales of hay
a witchy affray that is mine alone tonight

On the sleepy days I forget to guard that moonlit field
My eyes fill, flattening dark troughs
Creases ease on my face, plumping and filling lines.
I wake to a new perspective, fresh and buzzy
Chores are done, lists are ticked
I feel useful again, thriving on my industry
Energised for the days ahead, charged
But always longing for that starry sky that spreads
Like a painting all around my balcony
where I love to love the lonely night