behind moving eyelids

n o o n d r e a m

you, solitary dreamer
asleep in your grotto
your long golden hair
cascading
over green moss –
of what do you dream?
so deeply wrapped
in summer slumber –
gateway
to that other world.

empty question --
I know I dream
about my dreaming.

outside,
the heavy fronds
of dark green ferns –
still against white sky.

inside,
behind moving eyelids
the red pulse of life –
and infinite imaginings.

-Gail Bonsall Kaye, 1973