“O how sweet to be reincarnated as dreams,
Dreams that help us forget,
the resentment awaiting between the bow and arrow.”
~ Buland Al-Haidari
Ambivalence: The sun puts in its first
appearance. The cricket in the garden
adjusts its bow and twangs.
A memory: I am seven, dressing for school, trying to push
one foot into my patent leather shoe. Bump in the toe:
out jumps a hairy spider the length of my little finger.
Enchantment: The mirrored lyre shapes
on the neighbor’s garden gate. The golden
retriever that used to walk with its owner every day.
Desire: When I have my own garden I will plant
a Golden Rain Tree and a Keffir Lime,
a row of slender Gingkos.
Emerging: Some leaves will turn from flamingo pink
to green then melted butter at the close of summer.
Some leaves are dark with a glossy sheen.
Dreaming: I’ll pluck long branches hung
with orange husks of paper lanterns.
I’ll line the air with zest of skins.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.