Dozing into the arrival
at our land, passing between
cliffs of clouds and blue banked sky,
needed desired rain
and needed desired sun
and the question of which
would attend our arrival

Eyes closed, the landscape still rolled out,
the narration borrowed
from some other world:
“They grasped each other
by their suppositions,”
I heard, before opening my eyes

The sun shone through the rain,
mist rose up from the road
and blew across. The dream
was also worth watching
after the long trundle,
blurring the question
of where, exactly,
we were arriving.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 18, 2017