Crows bully us awake from
their trees and magpies sing
us to dreams from our grass
Crows bully us awake from
their trees and magpies sing
us to dreams from our grass
Sometimes I dream symphonies
and artworks. They’re
real. They’re gone
Running uphill on the
field of dreams its
grass a smoother mat
In a new bed
do you dream
new dreams?