A Shame to Waste this Night on Sleep

A shame to waste this night on sleep.
There are more than promises to keep.

This special night I take
though breakfast be a wooden stake.

For fearing to tread are angels bred.
How many can dance upon a pin
depends on what you stick it in.

I’d love to walk a country mile.
I’ve been inside imagining
I’d feast on miles and mushrooms.
I will come out this spring.