Dream


In the dream, I am living in some indeterminate time delineated only by the late atmosphere of the sky at dusk, a house alone in the mountains and my moving silhouette sharp against the moorland light, happy at the end of a working day in some old northern landscape, rearing sheep and walking, with two tired, panting dogs at my side, to a lighted kitchen, the last embers of the fire brought to life by my kneeling.But one thing remains the same in this abstraction, when I look over my shoulder and smile, you are there to greet me, to take my hand and walk with me in the last of the precious light, talking together of some future that cannot be imagined even by my ideal. Our love of dreaming together, as good as any future arrival.


Artist: Helen Nelson Reed

Poetry by David Whyte APRIL 2018 © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press


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