Dream Whispers

Franz Marc, Träeumendes Pferd

Dream Whispers

After the storm,
scents swim through
the sparkling air,
ignored on rocks, suffuses skin,
the golden apples of the sun, fragrant

in the blueberry sky,
all in harmony, but for
a thousand tiny ifs–

yet, ask,
then ask again
for dawn’s pink light
the flow of honeyed, peach-fuzzed air,
the garden of delights where azure horses dream.

My message from the Oracle. She knows what fascinates me.

39 thoughts on “Dream Whispers

  1. I think we would all welcome that garden.

    Yours is much more optimistic than mine. I have the before and you have the after (but it’s flowing backwards, from you towards me). The mist is still hanging low here, but they predicted clarity later….(K)

  2. Oh, blue horses are the stuff of magic, or in this case the Oracle and you.
    The art is bold, colorful and pleasant.
    Your poem is colourful and redolent. Wonderful, Merril.

    • Thank you very much, Derrick. I’m pleased you enjoyed reading that. I did add the horses after the picture, but they were on my mind, too, as the day before I had heard a story on the radio about trying to determine when people first rode horses. 🙂

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