The sun is already warming
the first arousal of morning
but my lover is traveling the hills
and valleys of her dreams still.

Sweetpea knows the sounds
of my awakening and abounds
onto the bed’s corner place
where I read my first daily stirring of grace.

She knows of all the places she could land
it is here she gets the glide of my left hand
my hand across her soft brown coat she is well-versed
for she knows this time of day she is first.

“Feline First,” Copyright © 2018 by Glenn Currier

Breaking the surface
Clutching intangible thoughts
Slippery seaweed. . .

Bobbing up for breath
Swirling down through dark colors
Which world is my own?

New yet familiar
The shoreline my spreading wings
Shifting transition. . .

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Around you, the vivid shapes ebb;
recede and reduce to a wispy gossamer.
Look there! By the horizon:
glitter (or dust?) dissolving upwards,
a pirouette at the astronomical dawning
of consciousness.
This "hypnopompia": an intermission.
An interlude.
The in-between of inter-netted eternities.  

How long have you been here?
And have you been here before?  

You are nowhere. You are everywhere.
Perhaps it is time to wake up.

I arch my back and stretch to wake,
For the day calls to me once more.
Rubbing my eyes as I stare into blinding sunshine through the window.
And my dance begins.

As if the world claps along;
One foot after the other, going forward and back.
I gather my breath and seize the chance.
For the world is here to see me dance.

Like a spotlight, sunshine rains down
As I flow through its silky light.
The world is watching; I’m scared near to death.
But I smile for them; Yes, give the best I might.

The day was long and I begin to ache
Wondering if the dance soon comes to an end.
One foot after the other; And like rolling curtains,
The blue night takes the sky.

The dance halts, yet I think not to bow.
I feel a strange relief wash through me.
It wasn’t half bad; I go to rest and close the door.
Tomorrow I shall dance once more.

I spread my wings
Looking left before turning the other way
This time I can make it

Jumping from the spot I perch on
Soaring across the ranges
Watching my shadow fly over the fields

Almost made it
Looking left and sighing
Once again I didn't make it

One last glance is thrown at the place I yearn for
My wings failing me as I plummet to the ground
My eyes opening only to see the familiar scenery of my room

One more failed attempt to get what I want