By Barbara Swander Miller
I can’t sleep.
I turn, wriggle,
twist and sigh.
Too much news coverage
I suppose.
Not that they’re reporting
anything new, really.
Why can’t I
just ignore it all?
The wind whooshes
outside
our bedroom window.
I hear the maple
swaying, imagine
its wet leaves littering
the ground and front walk,
leaving naked branches
dancing wildly,
out of control.
Finally, I slip out from
under the covers,
get up to write:
finishing notes,
planning, drafting.
The long, deep chimes
out back
clang a
warning,
the shifts that
tomorrow will bring.
Worst case:
Parents v. Kids
Government v. People
Friends v. Neighbors
I pause as
the wind dies,
and then I hear
rising above
the jarring tones,
the tinkling, high
voices of the
tiny chimes,
reminding me.
Best case:
Parents AND Kids
Government AND People
Friends AND Neighbors
“Trust, relax, go
back to bed,”
the gentle chimes
soothe.
“You know whose
hands you’re in,
whose hands
move the wind.”
