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Lately I find myself thinking a lot about rest and my perpetual lack of sleep, and wish for sleep. Most mornings I wake up resentful of the first morning light.

I look at my sleeping children, their bodies warm beneath their covers, their faces perfectly serene. B sleeps this way still. His body, heavy and still, deeply settled in our bed, is completely unperturbed when he rests. I steal the hours of the night and sleep like a fugitive.

Oh, how I yearn for these beds!

 

(via cations)

 

 “…Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.”

Robert Frost

 

July 7, 2010

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