Siesta

by CLAIRE NICOLAS

THE drowsy afternoon
Descends upon the world
On the wings of a great white
Silent bird.

It moves from tongue to cheek.
From palm to fingertips.
I know the taste of sleep,
A smile about the lips.

The sun trapped in the room,
The bed a vast expand,
A clock struck at the heart,
A dream caught in the hand.

Clouds gather in the head,
Clouds travel through the sky.
This wasteful afternoon
Is blowing by.