a few dream seeds
shine in the upturned palm of my hand.
they tremble and hum
and start to sing,
and I can glimpse the dream
of the worlds they want to be.
first, long and delicate roots unfurl,
thirsty for the dark and the cold.
then tender leaf and vast clouds form,
deserts shimmer and pray,
mountains rise and oceans pour,
from each seed
that you've dreamed alive,
and breathless, countless, stars.
the seeds go back to sleep for now.
you dream them stronger
you roll them to a finer polish
with your elegant fingers
and make them ready for the light.
I tuck their memory
into a soft and very quiet place
for the old spells to break
and the new magic
to spill in.
moon and mercury photo credit