Daydream II

Had they perhaps been strung
Like seeds across a cobweb, slung
As stars into the quiet night, sung
By the wind in dried grass, hung
As sunlight through fine hair?

Lost motes of dust dissolving
In the fabric of hot rooms,
Shining like the silent thoughts
Of a flower as it blooms,
Drops of dew on shady ground
That cool my sleeping head.
These summer dreams take my hand
And lead me through damp droves
Lined with beaded morning trees;
I will follow where I'm led.