The best thing about dreams is not having to tidy them up at the end

 

Wing beats of a bird behind,
then a craw.
Deepest silence, between the occasional car,
You were made to soar –
So Wainwright (Alfred) says on the beer glass
Winter sun, tilt of roofs
Then crash to earth.

The barman passes with the ash
while wrens flit through a leafless birch.
Then to rise and soar again –
(at least while our glasses last).
Recollecting times and places past
people known a while – far away
wandering in mind those unchanged worlds
Is this soaring or crashing?

Indoors from the ceiling
Hop garlands have been removed
Bines of luck and festivity,
The new proprietors didn’t approve:
“too dirty”.

Marbled by the gravitas of knots
Shining slats of benches hold their peace.
A telegraph pole across the road, radiating wires
Gathers every silent message
From each silent cottage.

Under the whitest rails of cloud and pale blue sky
the distant woods are turning hazy.
Folded umbrellas, copper beech
No reason to move except the breeze gusting icy,
plus
I’ve run out of time and money

A smell of woodsmoke scents the air
The life inside looks easy
The best thing about dreams
is not needing to tidy them at the end.

 

 

 

 

Lawrence Freiesleben

February 2020
(Hare and Hounds, Bowland Bridge, February 7th Feb 2020)


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