If I were a bird, I’d tuck my head
Under a wing when the west grew red.
And I’d lock my feet on a twig to stay,
And I’d go to sleep this funny way.
If I were a horse, I might stand all night
With my head bent low and my eyes closed tight.
And there I’d snooze and dream of oats
Or tender grass and apples and groats.
If I were a squirrel or a tiny mouse,
I’d curl up in a tree, a nest, or a house.
I’d tuck my head down, and there I’d stay
In drowsy sleep till the break of day.
If I were a wild thing of any kind,
I’d never miss, or ever mind,
That I had no pillow or soft warm bed
For rest and sleep after prayers are said.
But now I am glad to be just me,
And to sleep MY way—so cozily.