Insomnia

And so it blows
         the wild wind that tears
through the peace of the night
         I lie awake and hear
the howl of disgruntled foxes :
         this is their playtime
when families congregate
         beneath the stars
when solidarities are reaffirmed
         with perhaps a shared meal

Sleepless I drift into
          sullen memories
of places I would rather not be
         and with people whom
I would prefer never to see again
         Blades of grass dance
as the wind gusts
         and foxes cower
beneath the box hedge
          and my mind wrestles
to turn back the moontide
         to shift away
from mercurial manners
         and deafen my soul
to the gutturals of disgust
         and a past past pleasantries
and a pride that fumbled
         at the door of humility

Acquiescence so close
         to self-surrender
and to what purpose
         for what good ?
Orchids so often
         lead solitary lives
unless accompanied
         by kindred dispositions
And so I have tired of listless lusts
         and slick-eyed beauty
that would for a pittance
         betray the innocence
of the unblemished rose

Life is to be continued
         but a drastic change of direction
is in order just as soon as the wind drops
         and these dreary dreams abate

John Lyons