for Laura and Lavonne

I chose my dreams.
Carved them
from wormwood,
hung them on the wind;

paint peeling
from a signpost,
thread
broken in the maze.

Then I climbed the Andes.

From a high pass
I saw an ocean, green,
greener than any sea
the great forest
nested on the land.

It smelled of rain
and butterflies.

And there I saw
my dreams, all my dreams,
breeding in shadows
beneath that canopy,
while I climbed back
to the thin air,
cold of the mountains.

The wine glass
empty,
and the candle
low.

'It smelled of rain and butterflies' is just delightful milner. Vivid and subtle; enjoyed.

James

How wonderful to awaken to this poem.

So very nice.

it makes me think...I don't want to go to work. ;)

Thanks, James, glad it smelled good.

milner

If my reckoning of time difference is near right, Lavonne, you must have been up:

'... ere the high lawns appeared
under the opening eyelids of the Morn,'

Thanks

milner

You've all my sympathy, EB. And laziness has always been my cardinal virtue - to hell with that Protestant ethos that has enslaved whole cultures ( I gather it was actually used as an argument against the abolition of slavery).

milner

Dear Milner,

You have taken me with you this morning, yet again.  Thank you for thinking of me.  I might sit awhile and dream with you even with a low candle though let's try the 1949 bottle now or maybe later.....  ;-)

Laura

Laura.

We'll sit by the ocean
with a well aged wine
and watch the mating
of the sun and sea.

Salud

milner

Wow. Someone had a productive morning. If you changed a thing, it'd be nit-picking. Well done, sir.

Take care,

-O

Aww, Milner.  Would love that indeed.  Lovely....

Laura

I loved the piece, but each time I read it, I wanted to go straight to the 'rain and butterflies'
and skip the great 'forest'.



Then I climbed the Andes.

From a high pass
I saw an ocean, green,
greener than any sea
the great forest
nested on the land.

It smelled of rain
and butterflies.

Maggie

it is only when
you come down
from the mountain
that you can relax
play in the blue
with the children of sea
and dance between 
gifts
of green forest life

but after that
you must return
to the mountain
to its tight
stingy grip
of airlessness
and ice

because it freezes
the distraction
of your senses
releasing you into
clear sight...



michael

Hm, Maggie, I'm a bit reluctant to lose those lines - the nesting is quite important to me - but I'll give it more thought. Thanks.

Great, Michael, and me a child of the sea - dancing, or at least hopping (hobbling).

milner

milner;
your great heart amazes me...and your shining light is blinding.
john