Poem by Robin Blackburn McBride
What is this feather
disguised as ordinary
brown
and fallen
by the table meant
for setting visions down
I almost didn’t pick it up
and turn it in my hand
to see
that trick of light
the way things land
iridescent
with the change of angle
Like your dream
told back to you through another’s voice
and suddenly
more luminously
yours
“Cerulean” ©2018 Robin Blackburn McBride
Dedicated to Robert Moss and fellow teachers of Active Dreaming