I.
Sleep creeps like insidious fog
over exhausted brain, a pall
of temporary (welcome) death.
II.
The wind rushes through
the trees, across the water--
a duck flies away.
III.
A cloak of green--
bright green, soft, Lincoln, Kelly,
emerald and chartreuse and all the shades in between--
lies before me
and I know it's time
to mow the yard
again.
