Lull, and Lay

Meeting tomorrow's boundary, 

where midnight dreams to morning, 

the airplanes softly humming 

through all the puffy clouds of wool; 

lull, and lay- all the dream-drunk sleepers 

and the silent weepers (babies crying for their mothers) 

all the prayers at bedtime altars 

worshipping to where, for?  

No one has the answer  

gliding sky and dark like wine 

pouring through the glimpsing moon, 

peaking past the clouds so huge, 

sleeping lazy languid soothe ~ 

All the things at night we do.