Sleeping Out

Lay my bed in soft dry grass,
On the dependable earth.
Make my blankets reassuring lambswool,
And my sheets, sun-kissed cotton.
My bedroom, a hill-top,
And my window the star-filled skies.
Let me hear the sweet music of the breeze,
As it plays 'piano' on the leaves,
With the accompaniment of nocturnal animals,
Rustling about their business unobserved.
Let the fresh wholesome scents of air and earth,
Waft gently into my olfactory recesses,
And lull me into rejuvenating sleep,
'Neath the trustworthy radiance of the moon.
Let me lie unmolested,
By any troubles of mind or spirit,
But go in and out of restful dreams.
Until the coolness of the predawn awakens me,
And I may greet the day.

I Should be Sleeping.

Sleep.
It is very underrated,
Yet so welcome,
When the undertow of fatigue,
Pulls at all your vitals,
And drags you down,
Into deep unconsciousness.

I know I should submit.
In my rational mind.
Yet it is my rational mind that prevents me.
Too many interesting thoughts.
Too large a sensory meal to digest.

Oh grant me a firm, warm bed,
Sunny, breeze dried sheets,
Well fitted,
A plump pillow,
And you,
To entwine with my legs.

Then perhaps I should sleep.