Solstice Slumber
Marilyn E. Wheeless. Kenai
‘How do you sleep?; she asked, in perfect honesty.
‘When the sun shines nearly all night long?’
Isn’t it hard to close your eyes with birds still singing song?
I have to smile because I am exactly where I want to be.
You have no blackout curtains,’ she moans expressively.
‘How can you possibly go to sleep, something here is wrong.
If it was me I’d toss and turn as if the sun was one big gong.’
The sun has not gone down, when it’s time for work worn sleep.
I merely close my eyes against the light which seeks to seep.
I have no blocking curtains, or way to stop bird’s cry.
My eyelids are my curtains, birdsong a lullaby.
It’s hard to explain, to those who live with dark…
Who have proscribed sleep patterns the evening hours to mark.
For me, I find it simpler to merely nod without a peep.
Crawl into my sunny bed, close my eyes, and go to sleep.
