Awoken Early One Dark Morning
To words flowing in seamless sentences through the mind,
Stream of between consciousness
Turned poetic gush when pencil
Is finally placed sleepily upon paper?
Dreamt of a shiny, lacquered Wooden Bench
Blinding in its bright design of peppercorn-sized colorful shapes in patterns
like Polish Pottery
only more wildly colorful and supposedly from Egypt
but reminiscent of Russia?
How about this.
Heard your name {in its nick form} drift from another room
by adored friends, responded grudgingly from a desk
softly lit in mid-night shadow,
to their call:
Look at the snow.
Shrouding Seattle.
This Morning's Night.
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