Dreamin’

28 april 2011  = 18   moon

This morning the poem wrote itself fast and first before 
my unusual intro. I realize I am now addicted to giving myself 
over to the poetry muse every morning.  It’s what starts my day 
and sends me out into the world.  Poetry month comes to a close and 
I am just beginning.  

the wind rocked the house
last night.
trembled me deep into 
folds of cover
it wrestled my dreams

into a flurry of April
storm grey
where the waters rise 
subterranean
my breath is lost
to a drown

that consumes my
spring green
smothers my red buds
rails and rolls 
screams and hellions
the busy dreamers
hunger for silence.

it comes in Sun
light sheets
cast over the dreamers
body
drawing the drown
away
to another woman’s sea

awakened to silence
laid wide open
where the night
wrath is lost
to the rise of a new
day.