Every so often

To stop digging deep, to stop. 
All magic and truth napping in a corner 
while what I've done neither 
clears the way nor impedes; 
now content on ebbing thought, 
soft-stretched in a warm bed, 
morning and clean sheets 
like a park before birds, 
fog-muted city to cool
clear sunlight --

quiet, quiet loved by quiet,
mountains and memory 
books in silent rooms, all-beautiful,
pillow under my head,
rest for my back, 
soft hands,
yes.

*