Intake.

To forget what I
already know seems
too much at this hour:

my eyes leaning toward sleep,
lips dried,
nose heated and stiff.

I want
what feels most obvious:

the rush of humid air
pounding the surface of everything

or the creatures whose noises
carry the songs of life
through brushes and trees.

Yet, to be something more
than myself when my eyes

sense only this
dense drapery,
my ears the hidden
valley of resonance,

takes more than these
warm winds allow.