Even in Paradise

even in Paradise, sometimes,
you wander in the enchanted woods
and fall asleep under a blossom
tree, drowsy with the wine of the
Lotus flower and gaze idly at
the passing clouds, feet deep
in clover

you don't notice the rain passing over
or the dark pall of cloud, no
thunder reaches your ears, your
heavy eyes immune to lightning

when cold dawn comes, and your
clothes are cold, dew-soaked, only
then you wake, and, bleary-
eyed you try to stand
beneath the dripping trees, and

search for a path to take you
back to light and air, back
to where you were, under
the sun, with a task for your
hands, and know
your day is not yet done

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