DREAMING OF WOODEN PORCHES

Dreaming of Wooden Porches – February 2016

Once upon a time I had a dream
Of wooden back porches and log cabins
Views that look out over the top of the world
A sun that set in a blaze of gold and velvet

And in that dream I imagined

Sitting in the fall
Curled up on a bench with a blanket and a book
Draped in a flannel shirt that doesn’t fit
Sleeves rolled up to my elbows

Quiet. Happy.

I imagine small feet
Pit-pit-pitter pattering
Against the wooden floors my dad made
Tiny laughter ringing like yellow diamonds in my heart

And you were there.

Quietly listening, all arms and gentle eyes
A silent language of breath and gaze
And so many words
Unspoken, yet spoken

Words written with pens and whispered at stars
Words that dance and play
And cry and burn

Bonfires and horses and lakes
With winters diamond-hard and white
Summers filled with best friends
And family and bursts of belly laughter

And I would stand there in the evening
At the top of the world
Looking out over the blue hills, draped in dew and blue gauze
That setting sun, breaktaking for the billionth time

And in my dream my soul would stir
Then still
Quiet. Happy.
Home.