Poetry

Dreamlets

Drive. And the only rule is up,
The only direction, go.
We are two, spelunking in the sky.
The world ends, a few feet in front of us.
We snake 'round the switchbacks
Delving deeper into the grayness....
Until we break through to
A clearing. We turn off.
Life's like that,
Blindly following the centerline,
Stopping at places where you can see the sky.

Here, the droplets gather at the fog party.
The celebration mass clings to trees,
Dances in the haloed Moonlight
To Italian songs sung in
Great cathedrals of nature.
We hollow out our own space
In these moisture caverns.
Lingering here as long as we dare
Until the mist drives us back
With waves of dew.

Then we fly down, down.
Descending down
Leaving behind,
(The world recedes away)
As dreams are left behind,
These wisps of other-than-here
The fog. And waking, left we are
With the right idea:
That a seed of opposite
Is in every opposite tree,
And dreams seed reality.
How silly the serious
How serious we are about silly
Trees holding up the sky.