a picture & a poem: sleepy!

we tend to sleep better when the clock is wound by todd boss
than we do
when it’s all

wound down.
I don’t know

why we settle
to the sound.

the regular

click and chime
of passing time,

like water, turns
a water wheel

that turns a gear
that turns a stone

that turns upon
another stone

and fine
and finer in between

our dreams like grain
are ground.

(image source)
(poem source)

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