“Daydreams,” New Era, May 2004, 51
Calloused, brown bare feet
brush the weatherworn softness of the dock.
Years of storm and sun
have velvetized this manmade trail of wood.
Sitting, shoes beside me,
I skim the tips of my toes
over the cold, glass clearness of the water.
A warm breeze carries me gently from my
dreamless day …
Now, here I sit,
dangling my feet over the edge,
the feathery breeze
whispers through my toes
and tickles the backs of my knees.
A white bird flew past,
brushing the tips of its wings across my cheek.
That was a memory,
sparked by the high, crystal blueness of the sky.
Its rays burn fiercely,
cooling on the long journey from heaven to earth.
The warmth of my sun-drenched face
has been given the essence
of summertimes long since past and nonexistent.