The Way of Dreams

Dreams vanish in the dusky dawn,

Like wood-smoke spiraling in the wind.

Our minds reach out in futile attempts,

To grasp the image within.

Then a touch, a taste, a fragment,

And we’re teased into feigned recall.

But just when the dream starts to return,

There’s no recollection at all.

©Dyanne Gordon Green



The Road to My House

The road to my house isn’t paved, isn’t straight,

It’s just dirt and ruts, no fences, no gate.

But the road to my house as you go round the bend,

Opens up on a view that seems never to end.

Off to the west stand the mountain’s high peaks,

Surprised to see snow when it’s been summer for weeks.

Wildflowers blossom on the side of the hill,

My city-worn eyes just can’t get their fill.

No matter where I am, no matter where I roam,

This old country road will bring me back home.

©Dyanne Gordon Green



Mother’s Math

When I say I have four children,

People ask me this;

How do you divide love equally,

and not just hit and miss?

I say that it’s quite easy,

and they always ask me why?

Love doesn’t divide, I tell them,

with love you multiply!

©Dyanne Gordon Green