Let me sleep for us all
further than our aging.
To the elmed season,
sun found and cradled
within the browning shell.

We’ll sleep tonight
who’ve tightened nerves into years
with our faces of electricity.

Let’s sleep into a flesh fall nearly innocent
where warmth is brought by skin and breath.
We’ll wrap our hair into the swirled white
of hill line and fur.

gone too far,
return and rest.

— James L. White, author of The Salt Ecstasies

T. S. Poetry

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