I left sleep's velvet shack,
walked across a field of dew-
doused feathers, arrived
at two identical round ponds,
both glowing pale green
like a cat's eyes. I
then picked up a couple spongy
pale yellow orbs, palm-sized,
tossed one into one pond,
the other into the other.
They floated to the centers
of the ponds and turned dark.
The nearby forest, black
in shadow, purred loudly,
vibrating my ribs, cranium,
and feet. At my back came
a cold rough breeze.
hans ostrom 2024
