In bed -- not asleep

I don't know what was going on last night.  I wasn't consciously worrying about the Boston bombing although the injuries deeply horrified me, and I know well that in other cities similar bombings are far more frequent and the world's in bad shape.

The oddity is that some nights I'm very happy to settle into bed and I fall asleep quickly, wake up, possibly long enough to glance at the red LED clock and fall back to sleep once again.  Last night was becoming irritating enough I got up and took a valarian  -- possibly for the first time in a couple of years.  I tend to think a placebo effect sets in quickly.  If so, that's fine.  I get to sleep. 

Today's poem is about the nights when my bed and I are on better terms with one another. It is by Meridith Holmes

In Praise of My Bed

At last I can be with you!
The grinding hours
since I left your side!
The labor of being fully human,
working my opposable thumb,
talking and walking upright.
Now I hae unclasped
unzipped, stepped out of.
Husked, soft, a be-er only,
I do nothing, but poiknt
my barefeet into your
clean smoothness
feel your quiet strength
the whole length of my body.
I close my eyes, hear myself
moan, so grateful  to be held this way.