I curled my body around the trunk of a strong pine
with the idea of sleep.
My stomach concaved to fit its bark
my arms a circle around its waist.
“Keep an ear to the ground,” he said.
So I did.
I tried my best
to hear earthworms wiggle and turn the soil
sweat and toil
but all I heard was ticking.
And all I smelled was beets
And bicycle grease.
A pillow of half digested leaves
and a pine needle cot.
A mockingbird alarm clock,
swooping away with duel blurred white spots.
Or was it a veery or a finch?
Perhaps a barn swallow?
Though I guess it doesn’t matter much
as a mockingbird by any other name
would sing and sound the same
Finally, those worms did rise and shine and stretch
And kissed me with their dragon breath
We lay in bed with blaring forest radio news
But rolled and hit that mockingbird snooze.
[ I lick your fingers before I turn the page.]