I’ve long lamented how a moving dream
Will vanish from my morning memory
Before my mind can think to write it down.
But what in life is *not* ephemeral?
With autumn come, the leaves and needles fall;
To keep our gardens clear, we rake them up,
Only to find more than when we began.
And not long now before the winter’s snows,
Which we will have to move, for safety’s sake,
At great expense of precious time and labor,
Then watch it dwindle down beneath the sun.
The first bit above came to me some weeks ago after I again awoke with the emotional charge of a dream lingering but the content fading too quickly, a phenomenon I have written about before. I wrote the latter this week, after an evening’s work raking needles was erased by an even greater quantity falling from the trees. This morning I had the thought that the two fragments might be combined into a single thread of thought, but after reflecting I decided that would take more time than I was willing to spend on it, so they still merely stand separately.
As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with those linked from one of the “archive” installments, since the full archive is by now, at over two hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share it with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This is also archived on my wiki.