Waiting for Sleep

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Waiting for Sleep

The circus has folded
but sometimes (at night)
    dented trumpets erupt
    and the ringmaster waves
    a lion's path of ringed fire.
    Weary of solo encagement,
    the hesitant beast falters; gathers;
    then plunges unburned through the blaze.

The theatre has closed
but sometimes (at night)
    a swirling-gowned singer dissolves
    in pearly arias to clouds of applause
    from an enthralled audience,
    numberless.

The war is ended
but sometimes (at night)
    aurora-draped skies descend
    and officers trudge waning
    armies to vanished battlefields.