Dreaming

No, I’m not talking about not commenting or being on Facebook. But the level of accusation, anger, and animus there and other places these days makes me more fearful for the world than the issues being “discussed.” If we can’t talk nicely, even if we have to eventually agree to disagree, then these are very dangerous times indeed. So I was imagining if all those “a” words I just referenced went away, because we were all doing what our moms tried to teach us.

Wordless Wednesday…dreaming

Desert heat

After too many weeks of
	positively negative
	temperatures
eyes closed to the coddling sun
	60’s patterns of orange dancing on
	the insides of my eyelids
natural vitamin D
	soaking through skin
	to strengthen bones
unusual wind creating
	sounds of breaking ocean waves
	where spiny cacti stand
I lie quiescent, replete
	mind floating untethered
        above the desert sand.

Today I dreamt of Christmas

Today as I lay in bed,
nursing my sore throat,
slipping in and out of sleep
until the sun beat in through the half moon window
forcing me to move,

I dreamt of Christmas.

Not the faux Christmas seduction
   attempted by stores 
   beginning much too early,
   but of this Christmas...

of letters sent to friends not close enough now
   yet treasured,
   recapping the year,
   recalling good times.

of ravioli made and frozen against the day,
   cookies pressed and decorated,
   menus planned, discarded or amended,
   but always upside-down cornbread
   topped with maple-drenched apples and sausage.

of boxes of ornaments and ribbon,
   gift boxes and bags,
   beauty arranged and re-arranged
   on tabletops,
   in windows,
   hung from lamps,
   festooning mantels.

of gifts brought out from hiding places
   (sometimes after much searching),
   last minute buys,
   the sharp joy of “just right.”
   Wrapped and tied and dazzling.

Tangible bits of love
yet not the real thing.

of Christmas Eve
   and church and carols,
   (hopefully of snow)
   and silent night
   all calm and bright with
   lights on houses and on trees.

of joy welling up from somewhere deep
   to overflow on all around,
   to sleep and wake too early
   and go downstairs to start the preparations
   for too much food,
   to read the Christmas story,
   to laugh and sing,
   exclaim over gifts
   and lie back,

replete
with love.

Dreaming of Wyoming

In the summer, a woman’s fancy turns to vacation…rest, rejuvenation and the mountains.  These are some of my Wyoming dreams.

The sounds of silence

Silence isn’t really silent.  There are always noises of some sort.  What the sounds of silence are depends on where you are.