Dream Horse
“Any fool can get into an ocean
but it takes a goddess to get out of one.” – Jack Spicer
A dream horse, or perhaps a crab,
slept in crowded fields of light.
Dream haystacks all around
and the dream wings of a nighthawk
flying into an eastern star.
In the distance, dream horses
stampeded over fields of winter wheat
under an ocean of sky.
Was that galaxy a vision of a Goddess?
The horse heard a lavender melody
from a distant star –
the music becoming light,
and in a cottonwood tree
an owl chanted from the twisted
sculpture of a branch
that was still growing.
The blue notes of my dream
called to the owl
like chimes in a sky cathedral
as the Leonid meteors streaked
the edges of what I knew.
Above the owl’s wings, the northern lights
hovered over hay fields,
changing colors.
Every word I wrote that night
brought us back to a passageway
where a stone tunnel leads through coastal cliffs
to the ocean. Someone was playing a harp
and a thousand voices were chanting
the old rituals. In the sky,
we could see a dream horse,
the midnight muse, Pegasus flying.
All words have wings.
— Diane Frank
