Birches carrying green swaying in a gale
against deep blue, its immense depth,
that thin slice over the planet which
Gagarin saw. Almost twenty degrees,
wind making it feel more cool than it
is, yet still summer. A dog is howling
at the neighbour, and I remember
the dream I saw, cats living and dead,
my dead mother and her dead dog,
one gone fifteen, the other eighteen
years, in the dream the latter gone
missing and I remember still how
happy I felt finding her, safe, before
awakening to the sounds of an open
window swaying, with the trees,
in the wind. My mind thought it
was hearing the sound of rain,
it expected something else
than sunlight and aquamarine.
24.08.2024
Poem Poems Poetry Verse
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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