You never let me enjoy the morning shroud
colored kaleidoscopes across dewy sky.
Alas, without you I wouldn't know the moon
full, amber behind the clouds
ambient light hand-hewn
as I toil at the loom.
Hands like a manic magpie—
flittered, weaving word stack collections
When eyes want to droop and slumber
You are there to unencumber
to offer advice I ought to keep
as I fear the want to oversleep.
For when I stumble toward the grave
the feeling of rest is quite the same.

© Fae Hilscher