In A Dream

In a dream last night,

words fell from the sky out of raindrops and snowflakes,

falling as deep black ink out of the atmosphere,

into words splash! on a page.

It had one rhyming stanza,

and another not.

Like all true poetry,

it feels like light wind

on your hair

and goosebumps.

The words fell like pure experience

birthed into being, but

eternal like birth

and rebirth.

The words fell in the dream,

and I could not capture them.

For I am a

clumsy poet.

For wind to exist in a form

requires a particularly skilled

poet to get out of the way.

I will have to try again, but not today.


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