Sorting

I have glasses I sometimes wear
But I take them off at night.
No need.
In my dream-sleep world
Everything seems crystal clear, 1080p.
Apart from the dreaded anxiety dreams
It is a peaceful place,
A preferred place,
And free of the dreaded real-world anxieties:
No maniacal cartoon character presidents
Or fires of the insanities.
Safe as safe can be…

Somewhere last night in the background
I could hear the rain.
Warm in bed it seduced me to choose
A bit more early morning sleep.
Should I get up in the cold house
and see what the waking world has to offer?
“No,” the water warns
Rocking me rhythmically
Drumming down the drainpipe
It helps me choose,
A fluvial sorting of sorts,
And I have no will to resist.

A page or two into my next dream
I hear:
Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.
Someone at my chamber door?
So unlikely.
I will not peek.
Woodpecker drilling into the shingles?
For sure.
And they require no entrance into my world,
Save for some seed and suet.
We have long ago made our pleasant peace
Although I’d prefer
Not to have them
As my alarm clock.