“The End of Sheep”
When I struggle to fall asleep,
I’ll count white hairs instead of sheep,
as there are more of them each day.
(How many more? I cannot say,
for when my counting climbs past ten,
I find myself asleep again.)
That sleep should come so easily
when counting hairs I strain to see
suggests a larger mystery;
why peace exists to such degree
in thoughts of my mortality.