Under eider down
and lofty hopes among croaks of river frogs
at day’s end
while safely sleeping soundly
our ancestors come to visit

Shifting in dream’s quirky state
through weight of quilted veil figures emerge softly focused
with familiar faces

Far, far away from flesh they are
now only in picture frames
hung on walls of polished wood

Gilded lilies in a vase nearby
pay homage to the cycle of life
upon the mantle of burning oak
coals from embers that once shone bright now fuzzy but still clearly authentic only different

Mere memories now of the hugs and kisses as Gravenstein begins her bloom and mama thinks of pie

A certain stillness stirs under
the waxing moon casting shadows of what once was
separate reality wiggles in
with eyes closed a vision appears
two brothers twin and weathered ball tossing to and fro above the yard’s vast blackberry patch beyond harm or foil

A swift breeze hence a wind-chill
from beyond tombstones and treacle sticky steps up a spine unsuspecting
giving goosebumps a run and hairs on end though fear is not an option here as there’s no room for incubus within these bedroom walls only peace