As Night Recedes

The last time dark was seen
rolling over was a dream
then waking as if in the night
life was climbing mountains
while actually living
on the surface of Planet Iowa
in a bed whose peaks
seemed twisted mountains
completely wrung of their trees
by a motherly hand
whose droplets of pine and rock
were felt splashing
into a baby's tub

When eyes opened
there were the covers
roiled into a cotton massif
drenched in frozen sweat
as this bear snored
through his search
for the next patch
of blueberries and moths
in summer hibernation
with windows open
to the sounds of elegant trucks
like steel beads strung
around the wrinkled neck
of earth in upheaval


Barry G. Wick