A canopy of silk, encompassing me at night allows for sacred slumber.
Without it’s silent drapery, exhaustion would be a curse.
Las Noches in the Amazon, filled with orchestral notes of all kinds,
awakens tiny predators of mine.
Hugging the net tightly, watching as I dream,
salivating hunters hovering inches from my head,
unable to penetrate the fortress of interlocking thread.