(n. the brain’s blue nucleus of rhythm and alertness)

Last night
I sat on the kitchen floor
tapping my spoon
like a metronome

I pondered
the waking and sleeping moon
the chill and the warm
in turn

And –
how an empty belly erodes
And –
how sleepiness tugs
guided by a cyclical clock
in a rhythm
we cannot see

Why then
does my heart
still yearn
in a crowded room?

And –
why does my foot
ever tap
at the dinner table?

And –
why does grief –
have no release
it still shakes
in my coffee cup

Does the pale blue dot
in the embers of me
need a winder
to set it free?

                       t.w.c.

words of the week