an Irish Lullabye

the

keeper of sleepers

mind people in thrall,

beyond counting sheep

it’s Nod protocol,

a look-after

nappers in land

where the knocks–

–are ‘turnal,

and tommy,

and

unorthodox–

where peepers

aren’t jeepers,

but portals to soul

–that left to devices

can often be stole-

‘n dreamer divested

of spirit

and thought,

won’t always awake

with the self from his cot,

but docents of dozers

patrol

those a’slumber,

counting the sleep

and soul-drifting

numbers,

rejoining the rested

with spirits that roamed

with tireless

tending,

of people

and prone.