Choosing Dandelions

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Photo: Hasan Almasi on Unsplash

 

I wake and turn my back on the clock and seek the comfort of the dream that is still floating like a bubble, already fragile, above my head. It pops and disappears and there is nothing but a vague sense of something lost. I wanted to go back into it … and yet the choice, when it was made in some subterranean neurological net within my mind, was that sleep was to escape.

The day to unfold.

Still, and throughout the mundane tasks of morning, small search-parties like tentative roots into hard-packed sand, send shoots into my consciousness to try and capture whiffs of the dream. A hope that perhaps a fleeting dandelion seed of recollection will find purchase and regrow a stalk.

A place of in-between. Perhaps a corner of my mind is still in slumber. Perhaps if I find it, I will come across the dream, robust in puffy bubble-hood, still tethered to my insides, waiting to be seen.

Sometimes writing helps.

I have too much to do.

I will ignore.

Will choose to sit and breathe and let my mind and fingers wander where they may, the sands of time, the depths of grief, the dawns of days, the fluttering delights, the warmth of recognition, the sorrows of injustice. Currents of discovery of what’s already there. A sea of tethered bubbles like a field of hot-air balloons, straining at the anchors to let loose.

I wrote of a blimp just the day before.

Was that the origin or the reaction to the imagery of bobbing thoughts and fullness so tangible it turns air into rising power? Was the blimp the source or the reflection of the fragility of any skin if pulled too tight, of the leaking deflation if seams are untended, the world upended as it spirals out of flight?

I write. I breathe.

I look pointedly away from the pink sticky notes and the open documents holding forms awaiting filling for a speaking engagement and another for an upcoming presentation and a list of emails needing a response.

I make a choice.

To chase a dandelion.

 

 

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS Challenge: Choices

 

 

Therefore

dream catchers OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

It has come to her before.

The message that had felt like lore

And made a home

Inside her core.

It ricocheted in her heart

Amidst the four walls

Of her soul.

Her spirit knew it,

And therefore,

She left her door open

For more.

 

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS challenge: For/Fore/Four

 

 

The Harbinger

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Photo: Amitai Asif

 

In the slowest hour of the night

She came in robes

Of dreams

To weave the nearest future

Into light.

 

She swished along the desert

Roads that only

Deepest yearnings

Take

And whispered:

It shall be.

You’ll find the path

To follow when you

Wake.

 

 

For the d’Verse challenge: Harbinger

 

 

Up Swing

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Image credit Gamze Bozkaya via Unsplash

 

“Hang on tight!” Mermee called

And she launched

Wings unfold

O’er fields

Mountains old.

And below her

I swung

My heart in my throat

Rung

As below me unfolded

Hope and fear, life remolded.

Till claws

Let go

And I fell.

Morning broke

My dream’s spell.

 

 

For The MMLM Photo Challenge

 

Life, Captivating

dream catchers OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

As you breathe in the early (too early, today)

Pinking dawn of a fresh

Brand new

Day

May it catch on the ledge of a dream

That had your soul

In its sway.

 

 

For The Daily Post