By Ann Bennett
When you lie beneath the night,
breeze a lover’s breath,
darkness a relief,
stars can keep you awake.
Memories tease like ants.
The sand’s too warm for sleeping.
Dim light makes shadows of trees.
The wind stops at midnight.
This is what you’ve been waiting for.
Now you can breathe.
Above, canyon walls grin.
Dark lips have swallowed you.
You are in and of the earth
and still alive to tell it.
If this is to be a resurrection,
you do not want to sleep.
Daughter of a military family, Ann Bennett grew up in many places, and now calls Santa Barbara her hometown, having lived here more than half of her life. She has written poetry off and on for most of her life, but rarely shared. She is delighted to be included here. Also by this poet: "Gunning the Engine"