The cool does not rise high enough.
A fan roosts in the upstairs bedroom
window whirring air inside from
outside’s evening calm. The sun below
my viewpoint allows only a cadet grey
to tint what soon will be a veil
of glistering pinpricks against
a sable tarp.
Here I lie in stillness
except for the roar of motor
grinding on to subdue the remainder
of day’s heat infused into walls
surrounding my dissolution.
I release into slumber.
May your sweet hands hold my light
while darkness enfolds me.
May I leave space for You as
dreams give way to wonder.
May you girdle me upon my rise,
awash in your nucleus of vision,
your bold demand, Your love for me
as I for You and for all.