I didn’t know that most people
didn’t think visually.
O’ sweet the dreams like clear water
tumbled over fractured rock, mossed
and smoothed, worn through pines
and oaks to spread and disappear
before the dawn, before the day
demands we pray for more.
One must see these streams
of thought, go there, and listen, watch
them pool and find ways through
the timbered granite to meander
open meadows, deer and horses
grazing – walk along tall grassy
banks as dark green shapes of trout
feed and dart upstream – awake within
where dreams and rivers both begin.
You’ve done it again, John! “Awake within where dreams and rivers both begin!” Another stroke of lightning illuminates our mental landscapes, throwing thoughts that were only dimly perceived into sudden, sharp relief. Hope you’re still writing when you’re 100.