Annette Marie Hyder

My dreams flutter like leaves in the wind of night
flutter on a tree of dreams with whispering branches
that murmur in the storm.

The tree top touches the heavens.
Its roots snake down and down
while the lightning-forked sky shows
a slow wheeling shadow of wings
that brush against my senses.

My thoughts dance along the tree's branches
birds just waiting for their turn
to launch aloft and free fall
with a parachute of sleep strapped to their backs
they don't even need their pinions.