Dreamcatcher

In tender repose,

wrapped in the deep indigo of night,

I amused myself with the sky,

fingertips dancing across the astral loom,

weaving stars and planets together,

a web of constellations and space,

knotting the heart of me to those heavenly bodies.

I whispered my dreams along the tether,

secrets reverberating - tin cup telephone.

They cradle the lucidity in moonbeams

which drip from willowed hoop -

feathers of crows, shimmering,

like oil swirling on black asphalt.

Only hopeful fantasy is sieved through -

sprinkling down upon raven lashes

that flutter with the breeze of yawning.

The tendrils of mycelium below me

tuck me into an emerald blanket of green

while the wolves howl -

lullabies that bring slumber.

Even the crickets still,

as if the world itself has sighed -

surrendering to reverent peace.