Dream follows Dream

Dream follows dream through the long night hours,

Each lovelier than the last--

But ere the breath of morning flowers,

That gorgeous world flies past.

~John Wilson The Past

It was only just a month ago this field was full of flowers.  Now the autumn wind has passed over it and all the green has turned to gold.

This meadow which was lately filled with bird songs, insect buzzings and many busy living things is quiet now--at rest--waiting for winter.

I find myself at rest here too, hidden by the long slender grasses that whisper and ripple around me.

A warm quilt, a book of fine poetry, my thoughts, and the stillness of the earth are all that dwell here now.

Dream following dream the hours of the afternoon pass, each lovelier than the last, til the smoke drifts down the mountain and curls like a finger beckoning me.  To my hearth, to my home. 

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