'The garden is full...'

The garden is full
of the song of my white feet

My soul is like these threads of spider silk
tensed
criss-cross
between two apple trees

Before dawn
bodies are heavy
sleep presses eyelids down
You sleep
eyelashes resting on your cheeks
morning has not yet touched the fields of your dreams
the lonely open land of your subconscious

Sleep-sleep
your arms around me
Here the night is safe and sound
The garden is criss-cross full
of spider silk
and the song of my white feet