Poezja

Sleepwalking in unlit 
night, grabbing the 
moon, for a bite. 
 
Very difficult to chew 
the contradictions, to relieve 
the heartache. 
 
Endless drumming of 
woodpecker to mark territory. 
A war begins for insects. 
 
It was the Adam’s instinct. 
I will not fall on 
the burning coals. 
 
In a dewdrop you will 
see a miniature tree, 
shaping out for the sun.