A morning dream / I often wonder

I woke upon a night of silence, spread thick with salty fog on dewed fengrass

 

A starlight was about it as if spun from haunted silver dreams and frosted glass

 

A lonely light outside my window shone so pearly bright, but at a winnow guttered out

 

A curious thing, I laid awhile ‘fore I ventured so to see what wonder there had passed

 

 

Withall the night was one great pyre, argent lights and faerie fire danced across the sky

 

blown by some celestial wind, the current on the vista awash electric indigo and zaffre sighed

 

The colors strong and bright in azure glory, orchids blossomed in the fullness of the spring

 

A dawning canvas upon which brush would set to paint with shades palatinate and Majorelle

 

 

I stood some time in awe behind my window pane, in rapture of the colors of night-time turned to day

 

Whether sleep’s sweet call or dream’s last flicker it was that called me back, I cannot say

 

I left that painter’s sky at last, and with no other thought than rest, I so returned to bed

 

I woke some hours later to the noon, from dreams of blue and lilac skies in even-song

 

If that sky was real or dreamt, I’ll never know- but perhaps it’s best we’re left to wonder, for

 

a neighbor mine was found, passed peacefully in his sleep, his only window open to the night-time air