Dream Time

This entry is part 89 of 92 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011


“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.

Series Navigation← 1990Landscape, with Repeating Sounds →


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