Like Gold Dust on the sea

Like Gold Dust on the sea
Or darkling voices in the rain
The pulse of a dream
Echoes its rhythmic refrain
In the morning hour.
And every wildwood,
Every scattered spirit-bloom
Whose voice was silent,
Hum with leaves in untrodden ways.
And lyrics from shadows
Who seldom shine
Unwrap the distance from sober grays
And write in pools of lucent gloom
The response to the night’s yielding strain:
An immortal dream glimmering
Like a mirrored eternity of sky
In the spirit-hollows
Of your slowly waking mind.

This is the heart of melancholy

A tender seasonal gust of leaves
Scoops my dreams up
And rush them through the ajar window.
A fine-toothed comb
Brushes through my knotted thoughts.
It is as though the morning is left
Sitting, half asleep, out there
On one of the distant isles with nothing
But a lighthouse to keep it
From leaning back into the darkness
Of the pre-autumnal night.
This is the heart of melancholy;
A wistful longing, a vague memory of safe harbor,
Scraped away by the rawness of beautiful sunny days.
A dream with one leg rooted in summer pasture
And one leg winged by the mystery of night.

In the hills of a distant dream

VLUU L100, M100  / Samsung L100, M100

When the transparency
of the moon
closes the distance
between us
and the mist
lifts its veil
to reveal snow
on sunless peaks
that is when
you and I
will meet
in the hills
of a distant dream
we will fill
the night sky
with our memories