There was a wood duck along the way.
A chorus of terns, black-hooded gulls
and one goldfinch in the bushes.
Eventually she left.
The audience was over and I was dismissed.
I always thought it was my dream, but was wrong.
I’m just here. Eyes, fingertips. Something exhaled.
One long breath; then drawn back home.
When it dreamed us into time and space, did it know we would be lost and have to be found? That circumstances would shape us into something so far from home?
Deja vu when snow
settles on the long needles
of an ancient pine.