Sitting on the bed is
like winning the lottery;
the pillows beckon and
the fetus I sometimes am
will curl and sigh.
The book at my bedside beckons,
also, with insight and grace.
The poet I am sighs.
Carefully, I place my glasses
on William Stafford’s name and
lie down on my side.
When the light is gone I see
that I am humble enough for this day.
(book cover: Greywolf Press; stack: jonathancreaghan.com)
Narble Furt Lives 
I’m playing catch up on my reading. Long day.
I hear you. I’m judging a contest. Lots of reading.
Sigh
..very tender
In breath