Sleep, the friend,
pulling up beads of
deep unconsciousness.
Where is life giving oxygen
in the swirl of darkness?
Tree Spirit breathes in,
yet I am lacking….
Perhaps I fly the planet
in the night – O2 isn’t needed
when soaring, bodiless.

Written from Papworth Hospital where I am for an overnight stay on a sleep study. From the window next to me I can see a Silver Birch and in it is a face….

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