The Between Spaces

I inhabit the 'tween
like the Goldfinch
on water's edge
struggling in winter
to keep a float
through my dreams ~
to sing anything of note
to utter anything at all.
Others wing round me
and stalks of dried thistle
rattle my sleep ~
wake me before I am
ready.
If only life
could just be
poetry
and I could
just be.