Blanket

On muggy summer nights without air conditioning

it’s so hard to find just the right, light blanket.

I want something like the moss bordering a stony path,

blurry verge of all that flourishes without our say-so,

a fresh fuzz so minute one forgets that it is after all

made up of individuals, each of which will in time

sprout green feathers of dubious utility, learn

to save & spend slowly in a time of drought

& wait for its own turn in the common bed.