the word is sun and warm
in the fallen leaves
crispy carpeted grass
only green beneath plum trees
where I have watered them
almost every evening
before I check to see
if they had their meds yet
Mom and Dad I put to bed
they stare into the gloam
glad for the moon
Wind in the drying shrubs near the house.
Water is my thought.
The shadows are not mine.
Exactly when did this dream stay.
Inside the dream skip
scoot over Mr. Dream
over to your side
of the bed your covers
It is cold here at night
blackberries thump thud
to the dried grasses
nobody with a mouth
