Spring fauna

The spring sun now shines all the way down.

I can feel it on my brown arm and my frown.

The night is losing its endless fight,

Time spent awake no longer too tight.

Especially because of the local fauna,

Going crazy in the morning like Madonna.

Screeching and chirping at 5 am,

It’s not like I never want to hear them,

But, as you know, sleep is nice,

And 5-ish hours do not suffice.

So, any birds reading this right now,

Mating calls only after nine would be wow.


Autumn is here

Autumn comes soon

Singing the tune

Of the sharp scent of a hoarfrost moon.

Darkness comes too

The nights we knew

Become black and cold with stars in vies.

Rain comes as well

I retreat to my shell

Reading stories that my books tell.

Cozy is all

Under the shawl

I am the blanket’s faithful thrall.

Waking up is hard

When, out on the yard,

The patter of rain is the beauteous bard.

Autumn is here,

But I have no fear

As I stay inside for the rest of the year.

Pillo the pillow

Pillo the pillow,

When the sleep sails billow,

Sneaking under the whispering willow.

Searching for leaves

Under the eaves

With the intention of harmless thieves.

The leaves he takes

He never breaks

Stuffs in himself, small or big flakes.

This he does

Without any fuss

This he does and only because,

He likes you

Wants to help you through

The sleepless nights and he strikes true.

Pillow flight

I woke up at four,

Not by a snore,

But by my neck that got a bit sore.

It had no support,

Like the French in Agincourt,

So my sleep was cut remarkably short.

Where did it go?

Is it at some pillow-only show?

I was asleep like a baby, so I don’t know.

I looked low and I looked high,

From the corner of my eye,

It was on the shelf, learning to fly.

It jumped into the air

Landed on my chair,

Looked back up with a button-y stare.

Started to climb

Heard my chime

Came back to work during my downtime.

“I get that climbing is fun,

But get your practice done,

During the day when it hurts no one.”

Squirrel dreams

If I was a tree, I would shake, shake, shake,

My stumpy, thick trunk to keep squirrels awake,

Until enough leaves fall down to form a bed,

On which they can fall and not bump their head.

Squirelling business can be exhausting

And taking a nap will help their defrosting.

I’d look over them and eat their dreams,

Dozens of delicate brown-green streams.

Quick panic dreams are like fast food,

They leave a greasy taste, fear and dread stewed.

Dreams of eating and eating some more:

Your ordinary feast that comes with a boar.

The dreams of squirrel babies sweet and short,

Oddly contain scenes straight from Agincourt.

Sometimes the dream that I’m gorging on,

Comes to a halt and then it’s just gone.

That’s when I know that one has died,

Maybe an old one couldn’t breathe on its side.

I don’t know if what I do hurts,

If it’s in the center or just the outskirts,

Of their life and if they even notice,

If it’s the leaves or the center of their lotus.

I can’t ask and I can’t know,

I’ll keep eating and eating, though.

Icy beard

My beard ices up when it’s cold.

White as milk and hard as gold.

Why does this happen? Now I know.

It is because all the sprites of snow,

Also feel cold and want to melt and thaw.

Near my mouth, my gaping maw,

Is a bit warmer with the moist breeze.

A good place to sleep and try not to freeze.

When I step inside after going for a run,

The heat waves roll in one by one,

Wakes up the sprites and they fly away,

Leave their sleepy drool on my gray

And me wondering why my face is wet.

Was it so hot that it’s just sweat?

Pact of the tired mind

When I turn in and lie perfectly still,

I wait for the sleep to come, and it will,

Sometimes it takes time, maybe an hour,

I fixed this by using my brainpower.

I told my mind that “Here is the deal.

We’ll lie here inert from head to heel.

Even if we don’t fall under very soon,

Which might happen once in a blue moon,

Still counts as sleeping for the me the next day.”

My mind agreed and relaxed, flew away.

If I do this, my mind can roam free,

There is no stress when we thus agree.

The fun thing is, that it helps me crash,

Moisting up the pillowcase in just a flash.

Who knew only an agreement was needed?

If I remember, it’ll never be unheeded.