There are raindrops this morning

a fine spatter on courtyard like wallpaper

 

I woke at five then drifted back to sleep

knowing that the dream would be strange:

 

full of overlapping water, roads that led nowhere

peopled by dead faces beckoning to me.

 

This seaside summer is precious

high wide sky nesting seagull babies

 

fluffy descendants of teradactyls.

 

Warmth seeps into bones taut

from winter gales & I remember

 

not to forget what the squalls brought.

 

There is a new gestation, mellow

as the steady rain: self-aware & quite at home,

 

on the spinning axis of this bluebird planet.