Late winter afternoon.
A dream,
Of soft, easy light.
Where hope hangs from delicate branches
Stretched across the wind.
.
.
Here,
This wind roots out bits of summer,
Then sends them across the fields,
Sailing to quiet places of rest.
Out there they come together,
And find it all again.
.
In this wind, everything is big.
Telling all our stories at once
Whispering…
Stammering…
Caressing…
While singing comfort songs
From far away over the hills.
.
.
In the dream,
Whispering little secrets,
Stammering over your truths,
Caressing those memories into
Songs that haunt us
In their forgotten simplicity.
.
Shaken Rain 