The Minor Key

Dreams?

The clearing is bright, 
soft golds and greens as birds sing
from glowing boughs
high in the trees

The ladies dance, 
twirling as if possessed 
of grace or something far more wicked
they spin, mesmerizing circles in the wood

Shimmering skirts refracting light
and I see the stranger
they are faceless except for him
animal masks adorn what should have been there

He is not like the rest
aloof, alone, almost surreal
but of course this is all surreal
it is a dream

Laughter floats through the air
as if on buoyant wings of the bluebirds
but I hear it not
I see them no more

Before I can dance, take a step, speak a word
he blinks, one eye glimmering gold
and then is gone
like the shadows in the sun

But they return, those shadows
reaching long spindled arms towards my body
claiming what should have
been theirs long ago

I cannot avoid any longer,
cannot hide, will not run, will not scream

I know who he is
cloak or not he has come

And as friends, I leave gladly

My time has come