and then one day I stumbled upon
total joy unafraid
to fail or fall or come too close
it had been there all along
hidden behind the undergrowth
I danced and played with this new joy
and relished in that rush of feeling
that comes from dreaming
the impossible dream
do the shadows play with the light
or does the light play with the shadows
maybe it doesn’t matter
as long as they play
and gently sway
forming jungle designs
on carefully placed lines
we love to drive by farmlands
fleeting in the distance
glowing moments yellow green
then nothing but gray highway
these yellow green moments
make us think
of fresh frothy milk
homemade apple pies
baked bread puffing up
like clouds in endless skies
the smell of the earth
after the rain
then again there’s nothing
but gray highway
tree shine
softened by time
skeletal remains
all that is left
stripped of needles
stripped of bark
rough edges fade
and fall away
as they let go
of their prickly nature
only the inside
left to shine
we taste the ocean on our skin
salt-encrusted memories
call out as seagulls
dive through crashing waves
feel the undertow pulling
up, down, around
until we surface gasping
laughing
tidal pools appear and disappear
look into the shallow clear
to watch for life scuttling
searching
as the air grows cooler
we stand and brush off the sand
to go home with sun-soaked days clinging
lingering
once an ocean
thundered through these lands
we find wave prints
like footprints
scattered through sand
red dust ripples
abandoned by waves
carved by water
into fairytale caves
hardened and baked
these are the designs
time left behind
trees turn into snowflakes
that never touch the ground
each design different
waiting to be found
branches glitter glisten
when first the sun appears
bringing rainbow colors
to sparkle crystal clear
rain turns the mundane
into abstraction
rain like whispers softly falling
or are those tears
blurring my vision
let everything trickle away
and soften
until it all forms a blur
a memory
of tranquility
Happy Martin Luther King Day to all dreamers everywhere
an ocean of dreams
waves before us
at times it is flat calm
rippling and playing
in the background
of our minds
at other times
it churns and seethes
so that it all seems
possible
this ocean of dreams
where ripples turn into waves
in an enchanted forest
trees hold each other
grow together
and dance the tango
branches form a canopy
perfect for dancing
underneath the stars
to create their own music
they dance and sway
and kick up their roots
whenever they think
no one is looking
forgotten boundaries
crumble at our feet
what could have been
important enough
for a wall to be built
and fitted into place
stone by heavy stone
what caused the wall
only the trees can tell
Sheila Hurst 