Sometimes we dream of birds, in flight, in flight,
they soar far past the sun, in flight, in flight.
Follow hawk or geese—the height, the height–
there see towering clouds, in flight, in flight.
What if they were we, soaring out of sight, the sight–
your wing brushes my breast, in flight in flight.
We fly past stars and moon, the light, the light!
Our spirits dance at night, in flight, in flight.
We’re drunk on moonbeams, a rite, a rite
of dream-world gods, in flight, in flight.
Do you question this? Not quite, not quite?
Night visions with stars, in flight, in flight?
But I, writer of dreams, I write, I write
and dream of birds, in flight, in flight.
I took a poetry break from my writing on sexual harassment (because really, I need a break). This is a ghazal for dVerse. It’s a bit different from others I’ve written. For my “signature couplet” I’ve used writer. My birth last name is Schreiber, which means scribe or writer. I took my first line “sometimes we dream of birds” from Sarah Connor’s Eventide story/novel/epic. Thanks, Sarah!