Repose

Reading my darling poetry over her cup 

of 3:30 am tea served in bed isn’t subtly 

getting one’s own back, but I note that a 

meditation session precipitates; sooth to 

say a quiet invades - breathing slows as 

rhythmic regulation abates ‘uprightness’ 

into ‘lying down-ness’ and smoothly it is 

my in-the-face, go-back-to-sleep, hint 

Protestations are valueless ‘currency’ in 

situations where hard-won insight’s dint 

fails the test of primacy, she makes and 

breaks the ‘rules’ without conscience; it 

says I need be composed & compliant - 

or go somewhere else for such repose 

© 4 June 2014, I. D. Carswell