Sleeping With the Windows Open

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Sleeping with the windows open
the shadows on the wall
and the shifting slanting light
coalesce into dreams
spun with bird song and train whistle alike.
I pull blanket-nets over my head
to catch those dreams leaping like salmon
back into the river Hypnos
and the cold air is like a mother’s voice
telling me to get up
and make something of my day.
The white cat of sleep winks once
and disappears.
— Annette Marie Smith