Sapience Is the Result of Dreaming

Poetry

Does it imagine? Does it dream, or feel?
It dreamed it was a falcon; it did not
return to its perch. It snapped the tethering line.
Its once-bound eczemantic ankle healed.
Unhooded, it could not remember what
it had been when waking. Banking now, it climbs
the upward-drafting, dessicated air.
The falconer grows smaller, disappears.
The late sun is huge. The Hindu Kush
grow a long beard of shadow. A dark pair
of murine eyes gauges its passing. Here
and there small bands of village farmers push
their lowing beasts and plows without a word,
and do not fear, nor note, the spiraling bird.

2 thoughts on “Sapience Is the Result of Dreaming

  1. ( ( had to go back in to my bedding this morning ,all that lovely snow out ,and me in .. /that born with /not with of small intestine missing too much of thing ,not well ,/in my dreaming jacob was spooning me , he said something that made me think that when i get up again i should respond to on line , it was worth noting , but i’m up again ..and i’ve forgotten .. if i remember again ..i’ll let you know , / also in the dreaming ..there seem to be some sort of bicycle road racing in the daylight ) ))

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