The Dream (or The Search for Family History)

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the pages

fall

piles on

a kitchen counter that’s long gone

2 stacks

mine before me

waiting to be bound

you on my right

nights of sorting through yellowed papers

moistened fingers peel back

the layers of pages

an infinite task

to find a lost soul

ready to take their place

in the line of history

that will be us

as the dream

repeats

patterns in sand

ripples in water

bouncing back

waking me

alone

to accept the work at hand

 

©2018 Louise Ann Stowell All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

 

 

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Coyote

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I dreamt of coyote

last night

He came to me

through the opening

of a tight orange canyon

eye to eye

coyote was not laughing

and I knew this was bad

the visions came

A broken lance

“Snake Oil”

I stood on a rock in white deer skin

howling into falling snow

as horses ran

a painful lesson

of needing to

let go

LAS  copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay