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.

Somehow

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)