Dreams

 Dreams
All night


the dark buds of dreams


open richly.


In the center


of every petal


is a letter,

and you imagine

if you could only remember


and string them all together


they would spell the answer.

It is a long night,


and not an easy one–


you have so many branches,


and there are diversions–


birds that come and go,


the black fox that lies down


to sleep beneath you,


the moon staring with her bone-white eye.

Finally you have spent

all the energy you can


and you drag from the ground


the muddy skirt of your roots


and leap awake


with two or three syllables


like water in your mouth


and a sense


of loss–a memory

not yet of a word,


certainly not yet the answer–


only how it feels
when deep in the tree

all the locks click open,


and the fire surges through the wood,


and the blossoms blossom.

– Mary Oliver from Dream Work

Tonight I met with my church book group (love these ladies) for our annual bring food and a reading and enjoy each other meeting.  We ate wonderful desserts, drank wine, and read from Marge Piercy, Robert Fulghum, Kevin Kline and others.  The reading brought up all types of topics: war and unity, love and family, reindeer antlers and baby Jesus.  More importantly the readings brought laughter and tears.

I chose a Mary Oliver poem entitled Dreams.  These days with more darkness than light make me a bit melancholy.  Finding the positives and the blossoming blossoms in the cold is difficult at times.  Mary Oliver reminds me that "all the locks [will] click open".