Lazy, Crazy Days of Summer
Making The Bed
In the morning the leaves bend to the window and fold the house in.
Mountains and sun.
I fold the blankets, hand smooth.
When you’re here I know it.
The sun crosses the hand’s breadth— and in your face the unenterable image.
Under your eyelids night unfolds.
Pull the blanket over you and with it the darkened air.
“Making the Bed” from Somehow by Burt Kimmelman from poets.org.
Warm midnight falling.
Stars shining, dancing brightly.
Peaceful all at once.
Compliments of Sazaria Quarles on familyfriendpoems.com