At White Oak Spring
a kaleidoscope poem
Algae under my feet— I'm glad I learned to love you. Running water over my feet clear and inexhaustable. White Oak above me— the steeple of my chapel
White Oak above the spring, Are you dead or only sleeping? If you sleep, do you also dream? Perhaps even the dead dream. Perhaps life is the dream of the dead. Imagine my departed grandparents— dreaming me on. Gaze at the stars. Who dreams you?
Wonderful, Jeffrey! Makes me want to go out into the forest and find a similar tree in algae infested water
Wow. I think I needed that.