Dreaming Sunlight On Water

Dreaming Sunlight On Water
© Surazeus
2017 04 01

Dreaming the history of sunlight on water,
I transform into a singing oak tree
who learns the secret of love from rain clouds.

I follow my mother through forest trees,
watching her touch everything with her hands
while she gathers them in basket of secrets,
and repeat the secret name which designs
ideal pattern informing fluid matter
that she sings in magic spell of wind words.

Rays of sunlight gleam through fluttering leaves,
illuminating her hair that fans wide
like gold swan wings when she twirls on her toes,
arms outstretched to embrace the flashing sun,
and sings weird spell that describes how light flows.

I flap my arms like raven wings and caw
as I run circles around large green stone
where she sits, after gathering nuts and berries
in baskets she wove from thin ivy vines,
and watch her crush them in oak bowl she carved.

Dipping my finger in berry-nut paste,
I giggle when she pretends to glare fierce
as swift moon-fur wolf who sleeps at her feet,
then lick its sweet creaminess with my tongue.

Dreaming the gleam of sunlight in her eyes,
I transform into a slow-hopping raven
who explains secret of life in raindrops.

Guiding my fingers with her gentle hands,
she teaches me how to weave ivy vines
into basket with strap that I can hold
or slip over my shoulder when we walk
winding path of exploration through groves
to gather nuts, berries, flowers, mushrooms,
and eggs of snakes and birds with stripes or spots,
till baskets are full of treasures we find.

Climbing steps of small red-brick pyramid,
we sit on flat top overlooking meadow
where bees flit swift between sweet-scented blooms,
and brew everything in cauldron on flames,
then pour gold honey, sweet as rays of light,
while chanting spells that name each plant or egg
with story about its true origin.

Dipping wood cup into bubbling ambrosia,
my mother shows me how to drink its juice,
then we hum and laugh as our eyes flash sparkles
which translate the spell of sunlight on water.

Leaning close to my face, my mother smiles,
and I dream all the world in her clear eyes
as she explains that name for each one thing
refers as well to every other thing
that replicates its form in perfect pattern.

I see ten thousand trees like one true tree,
then, with oak wand I polished with sharp stone
I draw picture of the tree of all trees
in red mud, tall trunk with two branching limbs,
then speak the word of its name with my breath
that conjures vision of its perfect shape
so I see it shining before my eyes.

Light flickers on the waters of the lake
and weaves vines of words in song of my spell
that ripples from beating heart of my chest
so I turn to repeat song for my mother
but her gold face vanishes when I blink.

I see her lying among yellow flowers
so I kiss her cheek to wake her from sleep
but her blue eyes stare blank up at blue sky.

I call out her name in sunlight and rain
but her flesh melts way into wet mud
till white skeleton of her soul remains,
silent except when wind whistles and hums
as it blows through the hollows of her eyes.

I sense she is still alive by my side
when I weave new baskets from ivy vines
and wander through the groves of silent trees,
showing me how to find treasures of food
that I cook in the cauldron by the hearth
while singing the spells that I heard her sing.

Dreaming the history of sunlight on water,
I transform into the face of my mother
who taught me secret of love from rain clouds.