Faint details of dreams
appear years later,
reaching into daylight.
Blue-flag irises.
Red-winged blackbirds
descend on the marsh,
shouldering wildfire tattoos.
Yellow-brown bulrush.
Catch and release. Words
no words. Listen long enough
you will disappear.
Green, feathering pine.
Rising from tangled
alder, birch look like deer drawn
at the river’s edge.
Black mud. Stems reaching.
Wingtip to fingertip.
Bloodroot and worm; all equal
to the insatiable mind.
Dancing on Frozen Beaver Ponds 
minnows
slipping through. fingers
~
catch and release. words
no words.
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catch
and release
breath
~
heartbeat.
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When I come here to your words, I love how you immerse me in the world around you. You do it quietly, peacefully and you make look at the world around me.
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… and it’s always so nice to see your footprints in the margins. Thanks Audra.
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Lovely post.
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Thank you.
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Chris, Enchanting…thank you for allowing me to flit into this dream for a moment. 🙂 Viv
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Thanks for taking the time Vivian!
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I stopped after the first three lines to read and reread them again. You caught a sense I sometimes have that I’ve seen or done something before or dreamed it. The rest of the poem was equally thought-provoking. Thank you.
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These three lines were the poem’s entry point and hinge. For the past year or so, vivid, seemingly irrelevant fragments of old dreams have entered my mind in the same manner that childhood memories do. They sit comfortably among waking-hour memories. It’s a strange sensation that always brings me to the edge of something. I try not to linger or over think, but do appreciate the moments. Thanks very much for your comment.
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