"Night walk"

by Lianne Olive Hennig

Woken in the night by an unseen hand,
My body by cool breezes fanned,
I switch the light and rise from bed,
And round its perimeter must tread
To reach behind a tapping blind
And close the window with a wind.

Looking back towards the bed
I spy my husband, widely spread.
My pillow holds his tousled head and
On the floor’s the book he’d read.
His face, unmasked, now peaceful bliss.
I bend to lay a gentle kiss.

My throat is sore, and so to drink
I wander to the kitchen sink.
The floor is cool. The night is calm.
A cow lows on a nearby farm.
The kitchen window blocks in black,
And I feel whispers at my back.

I move with slow and serene ease.
I hear the rushing of the trees.
My fish plays in its bubbling tank,
While I, for joyous life, must thank, and
Feel contentment in my throat
As down the hall again I float.

My children mutter in their beds.
Their tails are where should be their heads.
Their bedding lies upon the floor,
And open is the cupboard door,
Where toys and clothes in mixture tumble
Out to make the unwary stumble.

I cover each denuded bed, though
Knowing restless legs will shed
My efforts to try to confine warm
The reaches of each sleeping form.
Still, cheek to cheek, I drink love deep
And leave them to unbroken sleep.

The bathroom light is far too bright.
It imprints on my sleep-sprung sight.
The toilet walls seem close and cold,
And outside shadows far too bold.
I wash my hands and stoop to dip
Beneath the tap to quickly sip.

The sheets are cool back in my bed.
My shoulder cradles one dear head,
Whose downy arms caress my length,
Increasing in my heart the strength of
Life for love and love for life –
Which compensates for any strife.