Two Nights In A Row

I must be sleeping at a spiritual checkpoint
Stamping the passports of those
Who have moved on
To their next journey
These souls sharing
Their energy and pushing my thoughts
To places I know
Containing symbols of their lives

Last night I dreamt
Of visiting an antique store
The leftovers of others’ lives
Were stuffed into an old house
Jammed nearly floor to ceiling in every room
Leaving barely enough space
For a spirit to pass
Yet my wandering was not
Without purpose as I moved
About the dressers, sideboards, and mirrors
Effortlessly to a display case of smalls
Toy soldiers, trains, vintage tools, collectable cars
All arranged under a stand of sculpted trees
Some oak, some pine, maybe even a mesquite
Each casting a cool shade over the menagerie of
The calling cards from my lost clan
I touched the glass
Feeling the warmth of the light
Through the cool glass and
With my closed eyes saw
My brother, grandfathers, and father in law
All having a time

I was awakened by the cold nose
Of a pit bull
His dancing eyes and whipping tail
A sign of morning’s arrival
As we walked around
The dawn after rain and wind
Stripped away the brilliant colors
Of Fall
The recovering sky offered
The most amazing pinks and purples
Blending four blurred trails that crisscrossed
From airplanes off to some destination

I could not hold back my smile

See ya fellas…

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