perched in the fork
of a dogwood tree
hidden behind the
turning leaves
counting the berries
one two three
i listen to the wind
as it talks to me
of lands unknown
and sights unseen
of mountains and snow
and deserts and seas
of riches and power
and warring poverty
old men and boys
women and babies
it quickens my pulse
and cools my cheeks
as it rustles through
the turning leaves
surrounding the berries
of my dogwood tree
where i sit and dream
of you and me

09/20/2007