Friday, May 1, 2009
Wishing I could sail into the fog of sleep
Its about 1:45 AM and I am pie eyed and certainly not happy about it. I go through these little bouts of insomnia periodically usually brought on by life's little issues. I am usually able to close my eyes and visualize a time or place that I associate with peace and relaxation. So this time I am allowing my mind to wonder back to Maine, Blue Hill specifically. The cool humid air, the fog chasing the sail boats back to the harbor and only the sound of the breeze pushing through pines carrying that amazing blend of salt air and forest with it.
To Sleep by John Keats
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
Or wait the "Amen," ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me, or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,--
Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
Previous sleepless night's post - click here.