Dave Bonta's short poem puts us inside a long, luxurious stretch of sleep. The speaker stays in bed so long that the night itself seems to change texture. It stops being just darkness and becomes "fine fur," something soft you could stroke or burrow into.
The last line widens the picture. The fur is "rich as an infinite tent," so the night becomes both a cozy, touchable material and a huge, sheltering space. That mix of the tiny and the vast is what gives the poem its charm. A tent suggests protection, and "infinite" suggests the dark has no edges, yet nothing in it feels threatening.
The speaker seems deeply content, wrapped up and unhurried. The mood is hushed, warm, and dreamy. The title, "Deep sleeper," fits: the poem doesn't describe dreams so much as the feeling of sinking into rest so completely that the whole night feels like a comforting thing you can wear or live inside.