Waiting for Dreams

The trees are silver in the moonlight and

The chimes sing in the wind.

It speaks a different language -- the wind.

One of breaths and sighs and longings.

It exhales cleansing caresses

With sweet release.

I dance on my toes

Feeling the patio underfoot,

Still warm from the earlier sun.

But only on the inside.

Now in my room, I remove my adornments:

Bracelets of shells and crystals on chains,

And then each piece of clothing –

Some dropping to the floor and

Others placed on hangers.

The sheets drag across the skin of my calves and

With curiosity and expectancy

I wait for dreams.