Wednesday, March 9, 2011

sleep in late winter ...











last night i dreamed that dream ..

the dream where we lay
in a large, burled-mahogany four-poster bed
with sheets of baby-yellow-linen
the walls were of this heavy, green stone
dusted with moss
and
the ancient, mullioned window was
open
your mother
brought us breakfast
of fruits & breads
in a basket
she was delightful & wore her chestnut hair pulled up
into a red blossom
she wore a white dress
we were young, yet strangely ... old
we were joyously happy
it was spring
and we smelled of soap & midnight
i don't recall your mother much
and this past winter may have been her last ...
but would she have fed me breakfast in bed ??
would she have liked me ?
kisses. open.  
sparkling wonder laced with
sunshine & want ....
open rumbled yellow morning joy