An Echo of a Thousand Whens

Franz Marc, The Dream

The ancient light, an echo of a thousand whens,
a beacon to the ship, blown off course in shadowed seas, while

somewhere, a fiddle sings, in notes
that soar with if

under clouds, above mountains, crossing rivers,
carrying dreams of blue ponies and verdant lands,

carrying moon-whispered secrets
that you almost remember

when you wake to taste the peach-burst sun
on your tongue and hear the universe’s wild poetry
in wind and waves–and its laughter in birdsong.

My poem from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. Looking at the image I chose after I wrote the poem (but thinking of the blue horses), and now seeing the lion in it, reminds me that a month or so ago, I had a dream of a house and a lion who came and cuddled with me. (We also re-watched Fiddler on the Roof this week.) The Oracle really does know everything. 😀