I gather dreams here
where withered leaves lay steepless
seesawing on the surface
of the pond
blue heron freezes for the hunt
I watch his stilt legs bend slightly
swift snap, a sun-blessed breakfast
fish wriggles before the great swallow
my dreams are cast
It’s Quadrille time at dVerse Poets Pub. I am pleased to be your host as we “steep” 44 words into a poem. Join us at 3 p.m. EST
mishunderstood 