Earth's Dreaming

this morning carries

memories

of fall
i feel the trees

breathe

standing here as earth

dreams

in the grey mist of
morning

Ghost Dreams

"faded hopes...just because they weren't played out in

sound...in muscle...and bone...doesn't mean they didn't

have a life of their own. ghost dreams...transparencies...

like light falling through a window...not everything is

meant to be held."

My Mother's Bones

last night

i dreamed of my mother's

bones...

repose

high on her windswept hill

soundlessly...

they drew in 

on themselves...

feet became talons

fierce beak

on her skull

lifting...

with featherless wings

she appeared...

outside my window

and sang the song...

of flying

back into my

soul

i woke...

tears...

coursing

down my face

and the taste of

flight

laying sweet

upon

my

tongue...

Dust and Words With No Meaning…..

Someone spoke to me last night,

told me the truth. Just a few words,

but I recognized it.

I knew I should make myself get up,

write it down, but it was late,

and I was exhausted from working

all day in the garden, moving rocks.

Now, I remember only the flavor —

not like food, sweet or sharp.

More like a fine powder, like dust.

And I wasn’t elated or frightened,

but simply rapt, aware.

That’s how it is sometimes —

God comes to your window,

all bright light and black wings,

and you’re just too tired to open it.

(Dust by Dorianne Laux)

glimpses and whisperings... 

fragments…

a collage of words

with no meaning.

next time i'll open

the window….

She had Colorful Dreams

dreams….

wakeful or shape shifting

among the stars

i hope yours are

colorful

there is a dream in my heart....

home

have you ever hoarded your dreams...

fearful that if you shared them

someone might steal them...

even worse..we sometimes fear

we're not worthy of our own dreams.

so we quitclaim them to others...saying...

here...take my magic...

i won't be needing it...

and i'll even throw in the wand.

we fill our days writing to do lists...

and thinking up goals.

but dreams don't like to be analyzed...

they're not comfortable on the couch.

they prefer to take up residence in the heart...

where they can use ancient keys...

to unlock doors...

spilling liquid light of recognition...

into our sighs of relief...

when we realize...

we're home.

~marilyn maciel

i'm working on it.........