After Guardian’s Poem of the week: Sleeping Out by Jane Routh

 After  Guardian’s Poem of the week: Sleeping Out by Jane Routh

 I did not believe in my instinct

nor the TV channel’s forecast,

came out for my own camping

 to view stars  and firmament;

Nature  and instinct fail us 

We  follow  these not knowing

They are empowering us more;

A duvet only cover on me

Me dreaming  of poems 

flow out of my imagination

running like a river, river dream

on the open ground, though chill.

Stepping on my body  my improvised

Kitten mewing, perhaps escapism;

From the nearby home 

Day and night are the same

for inmates, me  dreaming

and composing my own way

what if it snows, when your 

pen and mood are invitatory

for a  different world;