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]