I garner information in the library from books.
Determine facts from faces––from grimaces and looks,
antagonistic letters and notes pinned up on fridges,
in the garden, piles of dirt and lawn pushed up in ridges.
But all the little signals the world puts out today
are more complicated than they were in Grandma’s day.
Emails, texts and messages sent us through the air
sometimes are just more than one person’s meant to bear.
In light of all this input, I’m afraid I’m going to snap,
so I think I’ll grant me clemency and go down for a nap.
Skype, WhatsApp and Facebook can’t intrude upon my sleeping.
I’m safe away from “to do” tasks and all the world’s sad weeping.
Sleep gives retreat from telephones and all that information
that’s leading me to bouts of excessive consternation.
It’s the one place left to hide, or so, at first, it seems
until I get there and I have to put up with my dreams!