Restless

Tired enough to nap
Almost anytime,
Too wired to sit still,
Too much discomfort,
The restless patient

Drives up the mesas
Looking for solace,
Shade, and distraction,
If not true comfort.
At the top, the pond

Beckons, the thin waves
Cross-stitched and cross-hatched
Under summer sun.
Too much life in there,
Invisible lives.

The patient can’t risk
Diving in, although
The cool memory
Of lake water runs
Caressing the thoughts

If not the parched skin.
The restless patient
Looks down, looks down, looks
In, remembering
When the surface thinned.