A Seven Sundays Sleep

Under cloudless, quiet skies
Silence like a blanket lies,
While from the woods hushed shadows creep
To beckon minds to dream and sleep
And wake into a noiseless day
Where time begins to stretch and fray,
Where seconds, minutes, pass like hours
As slowly as unfolding flowers.

Beyond the woods, below the hill,
The town is peaceful now and still
And quiet minds unfurl to fill
With dreams that flow and slow and seep
Through this, a seven Sundays sleep.