A sleepless night of torrid, twisted sheets

and formless dreams that will not coalesce

nor yet survive to see the light of morn,

condemning me to my uneasy thoughts

and aimless morning spent meandering.

Beyond the path, I find a shining mere

so still it shows the echo of the trees;

no human sound disturbs this woodland scene.

A breath of breeze now ripples through the leaves

whose susurration sighs a silent song

in counterpoint to sparrow, finch and thrush.

Surrounded by the magic of the dawn

I realise the night has no dominion now

and all those misty dreams can fade away.