Dreaming is one of those things that happens when we are sleeping . . . or in a 'dream state'. This morning along my walk, I was in just such a state.
Cold, gurgling water beckoned me from below a small bridge . . .
Tiny white puffs on brittle brown branches whispered, "Pssst . . . "
I heard this guy's call, then quick 'swoosh' behind prompting me to turn and snap his picture . . .
And when I sat down at my desk, she pulled it all together.
Tiny little silver bells, tinkling crystal clearly.
A flicker's sight at wings of blue, they must have cost him dearly.
She plucks white flowers, spikey thorns
draw deepest passion's red
'Neath crystal light
this fairie's flight
cross icey waters sped.
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