Mike Brennan

Mike Brennan

It’s just a mystery
how sleep slips into me
   A wisp of smoke from cedar
   drifting down from a neighbor’s
   fireplace finding me longing
   in the dark for a healing
   of these weary
   The click`clicking of bamboo
   wind`chimes from up the road
   tickled by a breeze off the sea
   Kimonoed women in gettas
   on cobblestone
   The yellow dog’s whimpering
   from down at the foot of the bed
   as he’s dreaming of the rabbit
   he’s chasing across the field
   of freshly mown
How sleep slips into me
is just a mystery

“I love to lie down weary under the stalk of sleep
growing slowly out of my head, the dark leaves meshing.”

Wendell Berry ~ Terrapin


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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