Sleep

When I slide between cold sheets
at night, pliant granite wraps
my body, a hint at what lies
beyond, then warmth melds
muscles, bones dissolve, and
I disappear into darkness,
rise into an eternal sky
speckled by sparks behind
eyelids.  Released by day's
gravity, I fly with comets
and converse with moon's
pale face, no smile only
a silent bloodless grin.
I become no more than a pair
of eyes, a perfect witness
with no memories, a peer
to stars and their cold distant stare.

Memory

Trees remember no leaves
nor notice nakedness
in autumn chill, hear no silence
in absence when wind
parses through bare branches
unhindered, skeletal
fingers raking air,
capturing a bird in mid-flight,
then letting it fly south freely,
unaware that I have watched
it all in green envy.