The Fountain

Tumbling, bubbling,
    rising, falling
Calling through
    the pencilled lines of sleep.
    the soft insistent sound
the highway murmur,
semis pulling up the grade.

I sleep and stir
    to water in the dark
and stir again
    to water with the rising light
when chirps and calls
    are mingled in my ear
and draw me out of sleep
    into the colored dawn.

Lari Smith