Borrowed dreams

It took awhile

all that untangling from
January

the naked fields
with only the moonlight
to cover them.

My dreams
( always borrowed)

got pushed into the button box
as I dealt with things ~
to sacred to speak of,
here.

I was soaked
to the skin

and yet

all the while

those dreams

of the hills

wearing white

softly,

softly~

on

their

shoulders.