Too Restless to Sleep (Revision 5)

[Richard]

Hey Todd,
I quite like what I'm seeing here. I'll go into more detail below:

Revision 4

Bare of leaves, the wild oaks
stretch like fellow insomniacs. -I like this opening. It works with the title and makes me want to see where this poem is taking me.

Dew sizzles in beads
on the long grass. -Why is the grass long? It implies growth, which I think works with the idea of no sleep/rest. To me, this works with the title being "Too Restless to Sleep".

Under the dry light, flowers glint,-I noticed there has been some discussion about the use of the word "flowers". I like the use of "flowers" here because it made me think the speaker is talking about more than one type of flower. My impression could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.
unblown pinwheels in the thick air. 

I shift in the dirt 
from foot to foot, 

knowing the end
will be nothing like this. -I quite like the last two stanzas. It makes me think that in the end we will not be surrounded by life (i.e. oaks, grass, flowers). Is this a poetic way of saying we all die alone? Don't answer that question if it would give too much away about the poem.

Revision 3

Bare of leaves, the wild trees
stretch like fellow insomniacs.

Dew sizzles in beads
on the long grass.

Under the dry light, flowers glint
in the still air, unblown pinwheels. 

I shift in the dirt 
from foot to foot, 

knowing the end
will be nothing like this.


Revision 2

The wild trees, bare of leaves, 
seem like fellow insomniacs
under the dry light of the forest.

Flowers glint in the still air, 
unblown pinwheels
as dew sizzles on the long grass.

I shift in the dirt from foot to foot, 
knowing the end
will be nothing like this.

Revision

The wild trees, bare of leaves, 
seem like fellow insomniacs
under the dry light of the forest.

The flowers still in the heavy air, 
unblown, stationary pinwheels.

I shift in the dirt from foot to foot, 
knowing the end
will be nothing like this.


Original

Under the dry light of the forest,
flowers are unblown, stationary pinwheels.
 
The wild trees, bare of leaves,
seem like fellow insomniacs.
 
I stand in the dirt shifting 
from foot to foot,

knowing the end
will be nothing like this.

I hope I was helpful in what I said here because I feel like I might have just rambled a bit. I do feel like you're very close with this one.

Cheers,
Richard