Dream
The pastures adorn themselves. The daffodil in the bonnet sings about dehydration in August, about rains, softening, growing roots, and the eruption through soil into air. The rosemary turns blue with tiny flowers visited by hummingbirds. Milkmaids, the fragile lovers of storms, decorate the grass. There are pairs of robins, western bluebirds and the scarlet epaulets of the red-winged blackbird. Occasionally, a great white heron glides past as if flattened between sky and earth. Musical necklaces of creeks follow the creases of the hills. The sky, during the day, boasts a fireball, cumulonimbus, and at dusk, rose, violet, and gray. Later, the W of Cassiopeia, the protective sword of Orion, and the ample cup of the Big Dipper. The galaxy, the milky way, spoon the pastures.