I hear, in the echo of distant crow caws,
a time link, a lacuna
that takes me quickly back east
to early summer mornings,
my vision now split

in the double exposure
so often engendered
when twilight comes late
and dream drifts
could call it morning

till I come back, startled,
to here and now,
watching my perceptions
settle like fallen petals.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 17, 2017