while climbing

Photo by David Marcu on Unsplash

on an ancient balding mountain,
it comes to me. this dream
on padded feet.

each footfall,
the note of a flute
breathing stars to life.

then at once, twilight extinguished,
candles no match for molten sun.

i shade my eyes to watch
this faded vision
make its way to me through daylight

clearer
now

curls fall around the oval face of a girl.
she is my sister, standing
tall in the grass and wind

her hands say, i have what you’ve been looking for.

and in my heart she hangs
a paper fan,

delicate
and
white.

for the flames, she says,
make sure they don’t go out.

—

Written 15+ years ago. Found, smoothed a bit, and set free. Another poem…