Enter my Little Bower
by
Nathanael Smith

Sit staring at the flicker
The fog of sleep seeps into the mind
Beyond the walls the pale moon winds
The stars grapple with the meaning of the universe

Inside my cocoon I feel safe and warm
Dreadful is the storm without
My mind is free from imagined pain
Even reality takes a break

A dog howls in the bleakness without
Portent of that which will come
Crying in the urban desert, shouting
"Prepare the way! Another will come!"

I'm still reclining at my place
Waiting out the storm in my mind
Would you like to join me as I wait?
Sit, be still. Enter my little bower.