The Sleepwalker's Prayer
Lord, let me not slip. Turn me from all openings, Fumble my hands upon latches, Stub me at the jamb. Keep me, O Presence, In the vegetable light Of the icebox; if I throw Open that door, let me not Thrill in the cheeses. Father Nod, Gracious Maker of night's order, Undo my effortful tasking, Make my blanketing calm. May my quiet be entire, Unstirred, and my sleep Until morning, be still.