Hanging on the edge of sleep
I rise from my bed find some ease
within the garden outside my door,
the place where 5 a.m. feels safe and sure.
There I rest burdens hidden in dreams.
While standing in the doorway I see
a young bobcat strolling confidently
across the patio to where I stand silently.
He pauses to stop and stare, ignoring me,
beyond the neighbor’s fence, and there
curiosity holds him still.
My presence brings him no distress
while my hair rises on its own
and I glory while blanching at Nature’s success
in claiming my garden for her own.
Companionable moments I find with my feline guest.
Then, he turns and fluidly departs
taking with him a piece of my heart.
He follows the stepping stones I have laid
to guide my feet along the way
around the birdbath path to the tree-line’s edge
where he blithely disappears into darkness,
where no paths lay that I can see beyond the flower beds.
Now, my fearful dreams slide away, too,
into the tree-line of my own bed,
where unreal fears are now easily shed.
annarino writes 