Decision

I closed my eyes four hours ago.

My words withered into hardened berries clinging to a November vine.

My body ached like the leafless lone oak standing in a harvested Wisconsin field.

My muse was mute.

But the hum of my heart promised
deep sleep
blessed rest
night night
sleep tight.

So I picked up that gauntlet,
only to dream
a thousand sweeter poems.

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