Procrastination
Outside my window
A leaf blowing gently in the midnight air
Taps at the glass
Waiting patiently.
Inside, hanging from a
Small plastic hook, the
White-stained, gold
Lead-lined glass of my
Unicorn’s hand-made horn
Taps back
While I underneath the sill
Sit at my solid oak desk,
Tap at these keys,
My fingers moving in distant
Response to my blank thoughts.
Slowly my head turns,
My ears caught by the leaves outside
Which sound like a gentle rain
When the breeze blows through them.
My fingers gradually lie still.
My thoughts wander
Through the night
With the wind.
{Originally written June 13, 1985. Revised again for this publication.}
