A poem

by Dec 23, 20081 comment

Different Dreams

Google me and you might find
that I once sat behind a mahogany desk
In a corner office
with a view of the bay
I decided things of importance, and thought myself so
Ah, but wisdom found my hiding places
haunting me with dreams of twisting buildings and tidal waves
and earth shifting, opening wide the ground
beneath my feet.

Now, I spread straw in the orchard.

I harvest snow peas and snap beans and sage,
and create fragrant, savory soup from fresh kale.
Squash and tomatoes fill my baskets in summer
I am as morning mist descends from our mountain
and white pelicans ride gossamer threads
above our waters
I make clay pots,
and pray amidst dancing trees, listening
deeply called
to heal the land
from a wildness within me that doesn’t decide
yet knows what it means to be in this place,
enchanted and magical, loving.

At night, I dream
different dreams.

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1 Comment

  1. Anonymous

    Thank you for this, Denise.

    Sue S
    EAT 2005

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