Into Dreaming

The single glass of wine
has warmed my blood
and let me slip into the night
like something dark and shimmering
at the smooth edges of almost frozen water.

I am still here.

The waves of quiet
lap softly before sleep.

In the distance the trucks downshift on the Marlboro hill
and the train heads south toward New York City.
All that noise
is nothing now.

I am still here and can hear the clock
ticking in my head while I drift off
into dreaming.

I will dream of many geese drifting toward the Connecticut River
where we all float with leaves making their way
toward the ocean
and some other way
of knowing God.