I’m spending a little time in one of my favorite little towns in Southern Oregon when this dream poem came to me.
A breeze extends its wings across the pond. A harlequin cloth spreads accross a palette of greens and yellows.
The wake of malards smears the trees bending in reflection upon the darkening pool. Sounds of water and restless leaves whisper in my ear as the sun sets gold and the air stills before the night.
The scent of deepening darkness wraps itself about me as a musk settles and I’m cloaked in her shadowed embrace.