Still moving through a lovely dream, I woke
left my bed and wandered out
to water the gardens.
Their thirst, I supposed, and even sensed,
after days of humid heat
that offered no sip, no drip, no drink,
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.
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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