Night Work

photo courtesy of liz west on flickr

There is that cool breeze that blows atop the blankets
so unusual for this time of year
and we keep wide the windows at night
grateful for the way it pushes away
the heavy scent of labored sleep

But the truth is
you are not sleeping much
and although I can't help myself
the sleeping, that is
I am aware that your
dark hours have cast you as a sentinel
and it makes my dreams
all the more muddled and tangled

For the moon hours
they are for renewal
and the night fairies
they are known for their gifts
of sand and ebony glitter
all of which
remind us that work
is being done in our stead

how I long for you
to lay down your hammer and anvil
if just for a night
so that you could be carried
to the other side
and so
you could wake
groggy and gritty

and yesterday
it could be but a vague memory
having been carried off
by the fay folk
and now hidden
in the mist