Sonnet in Expectation of Going to Sleep

Quiet, quiet my soul
As day turns to night.
A candle burns and is snuffed out.
The sheet turns into a sail puffed out
and my soul like a bird in flight
pirouettes snowflake-light over the whole
snowdrifted bed. We shift
positions and I lift
out of the oblivion of dreams
and the ship camels trail across
the wall in an antique scheme.
No, not to turn back the clock,
but to be aware of these moments locked
in time which words will always fail to get across.

Richard McKane, from Out of the Cold Blue, 2009