“In this world of dreams don’t let the clock cut up your life in pieces.” — Jim Harrison
The cardinals who set up housekeeping
in our live oak — the one on the left —
woke me singing the sun up today.
Little Bear woke up the women
of the camp singing the sun up.
For his efforts he was given the chore
of bringing water to each family.
Life soars on sacred wings
high above the dreams at which we labor
in spirals not segmented by the sun;
the sun is not disjointed as it passes.
The moon of madness slices with time.
That is why we howl at her in pain.
The mockingbird sings sunset on the lamp.
He is not on the clock; he sings dreams
and chases the hawk of time
far from his brooding nest.
This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”
based on prompts taken from poems
by Jim Harrison.
(see Jilly2016 for details)