#73 familiar trees
it’s the sound of familiar trees
or merely their presence.
it’s the weight of blankets,
not necessarily the warmth.
it’s the womb-like walk,
all for the pleasure of drinking water
straight from the bathroom faucet.
it’s the bed as it makes note of shifts in position,
and the snore of the fridge.
it’s the genius of a sleeping house.
Now I also know the genius of a sleeping barn!