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.