Brogue 2007 - Belhaven College

Lullaby of Leaves
A D D I E L E A K
We’re stargazing, but there aren’t
many stars: one or two, maybe, specks
flicked from a cosmic paintbrush
into the purple city sky.
The grass on the hill holds us
t h e b r o g u e
in place; friction prevents sliding
into the soccer field, where the dervish sprinklers
twirl,
muted and oblivious in the dusk.
The fragrant green pillows our heads,
and I remember a lullaby
my mother sang when I was young
and too exhausted to sleep.
Bed is too small for my tiredness;
The air hints of pine
overhead, dirt and something industrial—
give me a hilltop with trees.
Bats flit across the sky like wind-tossed
scraps of velvety cloth from far-off places;
globed street lamps dimly light the September
haze. Crickets chant, and I
wonder what they’re doing so far
from the country and the freedom of the
tall yellow grass; maybe
they wonder the same about me.
Tuck a cloud up under my chin;
I sink into the languor
of the night, a long way from
home,
but home nonetheless,
curls lifted by the lazy wind; Lord,
blow the moon out, please.
30