Sonnet #289

There is a time for everything under the moon

A time to toss, a time to turn, a time to think of waking

A time to try water, hot tea, hot milk, to ease the aching

A time to give up on sleep and leave the bedroom

What will I do with this wild and precious darkness?

There's no one here but me. This is my secret place

A garden in darkness, the toad songs and cats' chase

The blowing spring winds carry lost things, in starkness,

There is a season for lost dreams, I hunt them in shadow

Among the shadows, I will find my peace without rest

In watching my weary waking world and dream to know

What darkness called me here to see, what little, what left?

There is a time for everything under the moon, I go

To walk alone along the roadside. Do not follow. This is best.