Oxford Summer 2017

The child was dreaming like the trees do in the evening*

A swishing rush of wind as sun sinks toward Wales

They have dreamed of Alice, of Bilbo and Frodo

When William conquered

They bear the stories of

The trees of long memory

Only the humming of bees in the bedroom*

Reminded him of the red queen and giant eagles’ wings swashing the air

Saved from evil invented as story

Darkness, underground is furnished with the bones*

Of the dreams off trees of aeons ago

*lines provided by Michael Hettich workshop at the Sixth Annual Sandhill Writers Workshop; His mother is standing naked by the door* [deleted during revision]

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