Dream Kites

They say white shadows stampede a full moon.
In veils of stars they come, to groom night’s plumes.
Under doors they silently slip, keeping dreams lit.
Into the corner they take a chair, a fog that stares.
Curtains billow as the breath moves on the pillow.
Unlike vapor from the sweeping sea, it circles free.
Over the canopy it weaves its sails, night time tales.
Large white elephants in frosted mirrors, boldly peer.
Their bellies bare, eyes of steel; dream ships, surreal.
Black and white images against four walls, spirits call.
A herd of tusks, beating drums, parts, fractions, sums.
Under a moon they roar their song, a village, a throng.
Stampeding earth, this planet small, shadows fall tall.
Lingering on slumbering souls, messengers at water holes.

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