Dozing, I swoop on dream smoke miasma curls,
a nuptial swarm of words streaming in flight.
I snare them in the air like insects
caught by swifts and swallows
soaring, darting and swirling aloft.
These words exude as spurts
from a cauldron of mumbling ooze,
while a lie slumbering, half-and-half awake,
eyes closed, drowsy.
Like misty droplets,
these wayward, homeless, lost and lonely words
alight on leaves of contemplation,
coalescing to form rivulet snakes
teeming with meaning
streaming like tears into consciousness.
These gummy snakes are a mixed lot of all-sorts.
Some are deep, fecund and profound.
Others are silly, shifty and shallow.
On gossamer wings, on maiden flights,
like swifts and swallows
they flip and flutter,
soar and swirl,
begging to be caught flying.