Saturday Poem

The Edge of Sleep

And then I awoke, startled by
the slow walk of wind thru the trees.

The quilt crocheted by my mother
protects the bed, another layer
defying the cold on this quiet night.

I have never been afraid to dream,
but the numbers of the restless clock
remind me that time is never
finished, and this, an unremarkable truth.

I turn my head and look thru the window—
what I perceive to be enough
is merely a song I have forgotten the words to.

by Josh Mahler
Bodega Magazine