Katrina Kaye

I dreamt I went to
the hills. Surviving on

fresh spring water, apples
from an overgrown tree,
and the poetry of Wordsworth.

I rode a yellow horse
through a moon filled sky.
The earth, drenched
from recent downpour,

spits spots of splattered mud
to my calves as I rode through
rocks and brush, forgotten paths
and overgrown trails.

This is my oasis:

lush grass up to my waist
rocky creeks singing sweetly,
the breeze drying the tears
that leaked from wind rushed eyes.

I swear I found it:

a life of intention and purpose
wrapped in the simplicity of
earth and sky, sun and moon.

Something I can never hold,
but can feel with every inhalation.

But dawn came,

trampling through my trees,
ripping through my silence,
ending my peace,

with the reality of the waking world.

“The Dream” is previously published in Hazy Expressions (2007?) and a scattering of imperfections (2009).