A moment of thought while drinking my morning coffee by Barry Yeoman

A gray misty sky
hangs down low
to demand retrospection.

Yesterday is an ancient dream
I don’t remember
what I dreamt last night.

What were you dreaming?

Everyday is littered
with fragments of the past.

How can we stitch them
into quilted heartbeats
of relevance
for this new dream?

How do I gather textures,
surface colors of the past,
sounds of unhurried water,
and echoes of long chambers
we have strolled along?

How can I assemble
what has been
and mold it
into a new gift
to enhance the day?

The past is a bronze shoulder.
The hills have flattened
in the fog.

The pond fish
have their own visions
of the rain.

Through the dreary
and unmoving morning
the birds still sing.

The sky lightens.
I bury my amazement,
return to the thoughts of the day,
the things that need to be done.

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about the author:

Barry Yeoman was educated at Bowling Green State Univ., The Univ. of Cincinnati, and The McGregor School of Antioch Univ., in creative writing, world classics, and the humanities. He is originally from Springfield, Ohio and currently lives in London, Ohio. His work has appeared, or is forthcoming in Vagabonds Anthology, Common Ground Review, Danse Macabre, Harbinger Asylum, Red Fez, Lost Coast Review, Crack the Spine, Burningword Literary Journal, Gravel, Broad River Review, Soundings Review and The Rusty Nail, , among others. You can read more of his published work at http://www.redfez.net/member/1168/artist