Dream Weaver
by Judith K. Witherow

The dreams they
keep repeating.
Dreams of death
dreams of illness.

The animals keep
showing me,
scenes of sadness
signs of sickness.

Big racked moose
charge with
hooves that slice
the air in madness.

Skunks with mouths
that foam and menace,
gnawing at my body
stiff and lifeless.

The night no longer
dares to shield me.
It lies in wait to
catch me napping.

Grandfather chants
while teardrops run,
rocking to and fro
with both feet tapping.

The neighbor's dogs
continue howling
late into the night.
death is on the prowl.

Women's Lives, An American's Eyes | Pyroglyphics: A Gallery | Arriving at a Hyphen |

The B Word | Media Glance: "Friends" - If You Can Take It