Summer dawn, wild oats blond,
they wake from dreams beyond
ridgeline silhouettes and think

of me, or someone like me
with sweet alfalfa leaf – young cows
to be, their flesh fills, springs

pink around me and I am pleased.
They feel it as I move through
our congregation on this hillside.

The road below fills with pickups
towing toys, the purr of hopped-up
four-wheel drives, tents and trailers

like blood pumped into the mountains
where snowmelt leaks and tumbles
into treacherous streams, rivers

hungry for adventurous ignorance –
her breasts heave. These girls and I
have closed that other world away

and speak to the moment, study
one another’s movement. I dream
of them – and them of me.

One response to “A. M. DREAMS

  1. John:
    I am so glad you arise early to create these thoughts! This one really touched me today. Happy Fourth to you and Robbin.

    Fondly, Linda


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