Whooshing wind shakes me

as I dream in Technicolor.

Islands of sound stir memories  

of trees that bent but didn’t crack.

 

It’s too hard to remember,

I have to sleep.

I want to change but

don’t know how.

 

I bathe in somnolence.

 

Dirt is everywhere.

life is sludge and slumber.

 

I feel a strong pull

overwhelming resistance.

 

overwhelmed... I stretch

feel a hug of warmth.

 

Green shoots, yellow tips.

I feel life beyond dirt.

Wind shakes off mud  

bright orb in the sky tickles

pulls my yellow daffodil tips

 

I use it to write this poem.