I AM NOT SLEEPING

I am not sleeping

in the other

room,

because

of the birdsong

I cannot accomplish,

tickling the darkness

with a soothing

unlikely.

She

is

an

immediate

grace, no emergency

of prayer ever imagined

in the throes of pentameter

or the sighings

from wine.

So what am I doing here,

awake to the strange

no

sound?