LULLABY FOR THE SLEEPLESS Poem by Geert van Istendael

Can you see the chimney-pots on the roofs, at night?
They hang by threads, which you can't see.
The stars you know, you think, so far, up there,
those are the holes from which threads hang
and heavy houses are lowered down,
cautiously lowered till they rest
upon the injuries of the earth.
Inside the houses, rooms are full of balm,
of dark-blue sleep
that glides along the threads into the chimneys
and covers, listens, comforts
as only a roof gives comfort.