“A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.”
— Charlotte Brontë
I’d like to just sit here with no real agenda,
no more checklist, even though my work-
space is filled with yellow sticky notes,
I let that fade far off and away,
allow the weariness to settle, my body
sinking, the sun sagging low as light falls
in shafts through the drapes, night pushing
the sun past the horizon, much as the tired
pushes down my shoulders, makes heavy
my eyes, creaks open the doorway
to dreamy thoughts, and lulls me
into the slowing preamble of sleep.
—C.L. Fisher, May 2021
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