A weeping willow whispers across the river,
‘it’s okay to snooze’. So I do
and feel the breeze
smooth the creases from an afternoon
of conversation.
And soon the fooling thrush
of forest song, all that discordant jazz
of others, also fades.
Unpacking these dreams I almost deepen
into sleep. ‘Fuck off,’ the Silence thunders.
(Edit from ‘mellow’ to ‘smooth’)