Imagine yourself in a land not all that far away,
beneath wondrous clouds that wear,
from time to time (depending on
their moods and the singing of the sky)
every color of the rainbow and some
that even the rainbow hasn’t yet worn.
And here, in this one special spot, almost exactly
in the very middle of nowhere, magical wands
rise from shimmering drifts of new-fallen snow
that stretch to the most distant edge of the horizon.
(You know, the edge that dreams float from at sunrise
just before they melt into the sky.) And from this
near-center of things, the wands beam waves
of warmth and encouragement and sunlight
to all the sleeping seeds who dream beneath the layers
of the earth envisioning the forms they’ll wear
when they dance in the soft winds of spring.
And if you are very quiet as you walk here,
in the snowy near-middle of nowhere, you can sense
the going forth of the wands’ beams, and you just might
feel their quickening touch whisper across
some dream seeds of your own.
You never know.