I'll Build You a Fire

And I'd rather not sleep tonight.
I'd rather keep cooking.
Keep feeling the breezes
and let the windows stay open.


I'd rather hear the cool night,
and listen to the frogs.


I want to write,
something good-
with an emotion
nobody can pin,
but everyone feels.


But my body 
is sleepy.
It is telling me to dream.
To let my lungs 
sleep with fresh air
stirring in them. 


I want to read
and feel good.
Sleepy and content 
at night.


I don't know.


Perhaps I'll just sleep.
Perhaps I will dream.


But maybe I'll 
create something
better
than I have been.


It's been weak and feeble lately,
everything I make
and do is fragile.
I can't get back into it.
Can't make myself
make anything good.
Or at least, better.


Maybe tonight
will be the night.


But probably not.