Sometimes, the Better Dream

Still moving through a lovely dream, I woke

reluctantly,

 left my bed and wandered out

to water the gardens.

Their thirst, I supposed, and even sensed,

was intense,

after days of humid heat

that offered no sip, no drip, no drink,

only, “perhaps…

 just wait…maybe…soon.”

But the rain never came.

I washed dusty leaves and watered deep roots,

bathed and showered each plant, one by one.

Dry soil turned to merry mudbaths

for those who crawl and flutter and hop.

Jeweled drops sparkled on plants that bowed

to drink again.

Birdsong chorused and echoed through trees.

It seemed

the breeze held out its hand;

the garden said, “Yes, let’s dance!”

I stood in deep shadows,

enjoying the show,

wearing pajamas, but fully awake.

Sometimes, the better dream is here.

 

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