Freefall

the years unravel the threads of a dream
the bright crimson an afterimage
against tans and muted pinks

I wonder if I shall go grey
before it does

Roses Behind Closed Eyes

You ask me to tell you of the roses in my garden
Instead of colors or the sunlight
I ask you to close your eyes so I can whisper
Of the heady scent that lines my driveway
The crunch of gravel the only sound
As petals brush across bare shoulders
You ask me to tell you of the roses in my garden;
They’ve overgrown like a runaway dream.

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Planning for Time

Along the path back
I met two hikers
a man and a woman
hand in hand
with two IVs dangling
from their free arms.

I spoke with them about the climb.
Satisfied, they turned to each other.

The woman, who called herself Loso
was impatient to reach the top
to see the sun rise.

I had not seen it myself
but it would take far longer —
more than the 15 minutes
she thought it took
to reach the peak.

The sky was already lightening.
Sunrise had come and gone
while we conversed;
now it was white.

Only I noticed.

I apologized for how long
I had kept them,
not feeling sorry for
the extra minutes that wouldn’t
have made a difference.

I was sorry that
it was too late —

They hurried off.

Writer’s Note: This was an actual dream I had two days ago.

From the Prairie to the…

Midwest child grew up
Dreaming of the sea
Ocean currents
Brine-scented breeze
But found instead a love of snow
Mountainous caps
White afterglow

Awakening From a Dream

I look at the yellow grass,
the stagnant pool of water.

If I squint, they are the heads of daisies
and a pond hiding tadpoles
and lotus buds.

But the bare-limbed tree
with its slender nude branches
begs me for invisible clothes;
these, I cannot fashion.

Trial

A frustrated architect
With frustrated means
Built a small yellow hut on the sand
Where the sun beamed warmly
And the tides swelled gradually
But the days grew dark
And monsoon rains pelted
Swallowed and razed
That tiny dream that stood
Like an instant in a lifetime
But the architect was content
That his prototype could be realized
And searched for another place
To start his true endeavor.

False Friend

Friend,
You coax me onto high beams
Over a bridge that ends in mist
Can you not see
The shaking of my feet?
I climb and fall
Catch myself on elbows and toes
Now, I can no longer
Even move.
Friend,
Do not be the hand
That pushes me
Off the edge.

Unrelenting Dream

On the unbeaten path, the child treads her way
Through the stormy night and trees that sway
She knows a light shines atop the highest hill
And dreams she’ll dream, till she’s had her fill

At Thanksgiving

Mothers give you the whole wishbone;
They tell you half-dreams are an impossibility —
That all the goodness in your future
Is already yours

Eternity

A nightwalk on stars
Is the journey of a dream
Where I am at the start, middle, and end
All at the same time