end of a hard day

I lapsed into
a billowing rest

unravelling comfortably
from the tightness of the day

away - from the spider web branches
where I, occasionally, tangle myself
in useless fits and starts.

I was acutely aware of my being
in the still of the room

and the soaring peace
of letting go.

There was a tenderness
to the golden cast of the hour
and, as I breathed a humongous sigh
of release,

I heard the faint sounds
of meal preparation.

Someone was making food to feed us.

Good . . . I slept then . . .
in my little nest.

photo:  A Nest in the Branches - W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke