[my mind grew quiet]
       

My mind grew quiet
like a house at dusk,
      rooms black, except
for moonlight stroking walls.
Then sleep unlocked the door.
When sleep appeared, removed
its robe, and wrapped its arms
around my neck
whispering plunder in my ear,
I even welcomed death
to snuggle down. When death
sistered itself to sleep,
not brusque, but coy and clever
as the start of fall-signaled
by a first vermilion leaf,
a chill against my cheek—
then the sky opened like a box
too full of diamond stars.
When the stars reduced all nights
          to a jar      stones,
gray pebbles in a hand,
then my mind could settle in
its house                    and still.

Copyright © 2009 Jehanne Dubrow All rights reserved
from From the Fever-World
Washington Writers' Publishing House
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission