Sore Nature’s Balm 3

Sleep won’t let me in. From 23.15 to 02.20, a great weight of tiredness, moments of consciousness drift & then there’s the moonlight again. Weirdly, the brightness in the corners of the room is a small comfort. Something atavistic, maybe, from a time when nights were total darkness. I’m strangely alert now, but as the Thane of Cawdor says, it’s ‘sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care’, & when the alarm goes off in 3 hours & 20 minutes, unless sleep does let me in, even if only for a brief, leg-juddering few minutes at REM level, then unravelled I shall be!

Time to lie down.

About Dick Jones

I'm a post-retirement Drama teacher, currently working part-time. I have a grown-up son and daughter, three grandchildren and three young children from my second marriage. I write - principally poetry but prose too, both fitfully published. My poetry collection Ancient Lights is published by Phoenicia Publishing ( and my translation of Blaise Cendrars' 'Trans-Siberian Prosody and Little Jeanne from France' (illustrated by my friend, the artist, writer and long-time blogger Natalie d'Arbeloff) is published by Old Stile Press ( I play bass guitar & bouzouki in the song-based acoustic/electric trio Moorby Jones, playing entirely original material. spotify:artist:07MDD5MK9MnRGSEZwbsas9 I have a dormant blog with posts going back to 2004 at Dick Jones' Patteran Pages - - and I'm a radio ham. My callsign is G0EUV
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