dreams – Poetic Meanderings

Ladybug Haiku 2

May your dreams take flight. A demure damsel, but under the dotted dome her wings wait to fly. —C.L. Fisher, April 2022 Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.

Lullaby

I feel heavy, weighted, like there is lead lining my pockets, stones filling my head, and every part of me feels pulled to bed, but I take one last look, step under a glowing moon cradled in the crook of our bare-limbed pear-tree, just hovering near, reminding me dreams await, and so I surrender toContinue reading “Lullaby”

Nightmare

The long moments after waking from a deep and dark dream, the kind that carries an oppressive, choking feeling on its shadowy back that continues to hold you as you wake; you try to erase the images, but they remain, and so you stay, eyes open in the dark, your beloved sleeping peacefully next toContinue reading “Nightmare”

Snow Dreaming

Is there a promise of snow when November holds the heat of September, when days like spring make us think pumpkin spice delights are anachronisms, and sweet iced tea just seems more fitting? Maybe no promise, but I can find a snowy glade, ascend a white-topped mountain, meander a frosty forest filled with flocked ChristmasContinue reading “Snow Dreaming”

The Longing Hours

“Other sound than the owl’s voice there was none, save the falling of a fountain into its stone basin; for it was one of those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together, and then heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again.” — Charles Dickens. Some nights I keep companyContinue reading “The Longing Hours”

Hued Memories

I’ve been dreaming in florals, swirling petals, long and elegant stems that sway in some far away garden, hints of darkened blossoms taking shape, hued memory awakening me to paint. —C.L. Fisher, September 2021 Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributedContinue reading “Hued Memories”

Cycles

You see life cycles when you pay attention to a garden —browning leaves and curling petals, the tender buds guarded until the blooming— a parallel to our living, the way each day moves into evening, opening and closing, new life and death, and we find meaning in the dark night when we have time toContinue reading “Cycles”

Preamble

“A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.” — Charlotte Brontë I’d like to just sit here with no real agenda, no more checklist, even though my work- space is filled with yellow sticky notes, I let that fade far off and away, allow the weariness to settle, my body sinking, the sun sagging low asContinue reading “Preamble”

The Flickering Hour

I’m settling in from the day, leaning into my everything- from-here chair, where I write, draw, read, think…..I reflect on the day, replay moments, consider all that happened from my 4am waking to this slow ending, sun fading on the horizon like pixie-dust, the curtain across from me haloed with the last amber light likeContinue reading “The Flickering Hour”

Mumble

*A song in the night, oh my soul! — Horatio Spafford The house is so quiet, you are still sleeping, and I sit in the mumble— traffic on the nearby loop, the creaks and groans of our house aging, and the tapping of the keys as I write. I woke with many faces in myContinue reading “Mumble”