Oregon Dreaming Poem
By Mark Leci
Patterns in the air
Waving grass of open fields,
Echoing through hollow forests,
The thread of hisses,
Whipping the wind,
Perforated with pops,
Dodging silver fish slipping in and out,
Sparkling at night like knives,
Black with shining eyes,
Tiny dots like meaning,
Sprinkled over wave crests.
Patterns of simple, black water.
Copyright © by the owner.
